


In a mirror darkly

by taj_mahal



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Blackmail, Characters switch places, Dark alternative universe, Domestic fights/discussions, Engagement, F/F Friendship, Fedal - Freeform, Federer kids (mentioned), Gen, M/M, M/M (Mentioned), Marriage, Multiple Timelines, Multiple Universes, Science Fiction, Strange Behavior, established relationships - Freeform, multidimensions, pretending to be somebody else, slightly confusing storyline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-05-07 10:47:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 54,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19207804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taj_mahal/pseuds/taj_mahal
Summary: US Open 2019:After a blackout due to a major energy surge in the whole of Queens right in the middle of the last Grand Slam tournament of the year, both Roger's wife and Rafa's fiance start acting strange.The two men try to get to the bottom of the mystery. What they uncover is more fantastical and unbelievable then either of them ever would have thought possible. But it is the truth...





	1. Chapter 1

*New York – late August 2019*

“Meri, I'm back. Are you okay?”

There is a voice calling out, a voice that sounds distinctly like Rafael, but completely and entirely different at the very same time. He sounds concerned, his tone soft and slightly wavering. And he does not call her by name. He is calling for somebody else, some woman she doesn't know. And that makes her angry... and very much jealous at the same time. After all she is sitting right here. But she can't reply, can't tell him to stop, can't demand an apology from him.

She feels like she is trapped underwater, a rushing sound in her ears, unable to open her eyes, unable to take in a deep breath. She hears muffled footsteps somewhere close by and then somebody touches her arm – softly, gently. By the calloused fingers and palm of the hand, by the way the touch sends a surge of something that feels almost like electricity to her upon contact, she knows it is Rafael. She opens her eyes.

The world around her tilts on it's axis for just a moment and she reaches out a hand, encircling her fingers around Rafael's wrist where his hand is still on her upper arm, looking for comfort and a way to ground herself. Only now does the room around her and the face in front of her come into focus. Rafael looks like he always does and at the same time he doesn't. There is a soft wariness to his eyes she has rarely ever seen before, his features are a little too gentle, his hair a little too light and short, his skin a little too tanned... but he is still the same person.

The room she is in is entirely wrong as well. She is supposed to be in a sunlit dining hall, but instead there is neon light shining from the ceiling and the walls are white washed and decorated with generic pictures to give it a more homey feel. It doesn't really work and she cannot make sense of the scenery on front of her. It scares her, but before she ever gets the chance to demand an explanation, a frown creases Rafael's face and he lets go of her arm, gently shaking free of her grip and points to her neckline, obviously missing something that is supposed to be there. His question is yet another thing she simply cannot make any sense of.

“Where is your pendant?”

“What pendant?”

She looks at him confused by the question as much as the apparent displeasure and worry in his eyes. She hasn't the faintest idea what he is talking about. Over the years Rafael has bought her lots and lots of jewelry but she cannot remember a single pendant he would be that hung up about. The one piece of jewelry he has only ever shown any interest in her wearing, is her wedding ring. And that one is on her finger, right where it belongs. He frowns at the reply – a deep, slightly irritated frown – as he tries to come to terms with her mystifying answer.

“Are you trying to tease me?”

“Tease you... No?”

“Then where is it? You didn't lose it, did you?”

“I don't think so...”

Her hand goes to her neckline and upper chest involuntarily as she starts to feel for the necklace and pendant she knows cannot be there in the first place. She has no idea what to tell him, no idea how to come up with a reply that will please him because she truly doesn't know what to say. That however is not the answer he is looking for or expecting from her. The frown on Rafael's face has deepened but he looks more confused than angry. It's a very strange look on his face. Usually he is not that patient – not with her, not with anyone. But he is demanding when it comes to a proper answer, at least in that regard nothing about him has changed.

“You don't think? What does that mean?”

“I don't know.”

“You don't know if you have misplaced or lost your engagement gift?”

Things only get weirder and more surreal from here on out. Her engagement gift nine years ago has been a very nice, very sleek, midnight blue sports car – an American model Chevrolet Camaro – that she loves and cherishes and drives to this day. Rafael has to know that. He should know some silly pendant would not have satisfied her urge for materialism, especially on an occasion as special as their engagement. And said engagement has happened nine and a half years ago. They haven't been engaged for a long time. Rafael knows that as well. So if this is some sort of prank on his part, it is in very bad taste. But she is too confused to actually call him out on his bad behavior. Her mind is still set on the insurmountable task of making sense of what is going on here.

“Engagement... We... we are engaged?”

“Meri, you are not being funny.”

“I'm not trying to be funny.”

Rafael is infuriatingly calm and caring around here. They are not making any leeway this way. He doesn't ask the right questions, she doesn't give the right answers and vice versa. She still has no clue why Rafael looks different, acts different and seems to think they are not married to one another for some very bizarre reason. Instead it seems he is very much concerned about her health and well being. But apart from a slightly foggy feeling in her head, she feels fine and him hovering and asking incessant questions is not helping.

“Are you sure you are alright? You seem confused... and you're kind of scaring me with it...”

“I... I feel fine, I guess. Where... where the hell are we? What happened? Where did you just come from?”

“I tried to track down a tournament official to get us a car back to the hotel. It wasn't easy in the dark, but once the blackout ended and the lights came back on, I found somebody. They are sending for a driver right now. We should be back at the hotel in half an hour.”

A blackout, a surge of electricity causing the whole system to collapse in a cascade failure... That much she can make sense of because it is exactly what has happened before she has opened her eyes to this unfamiliar place and a man who very much looks like her husband but doesn't act like him. The rest of it is a mystery to her, though. They shouldn't be going to any hotel. If at all they should go FROM a hotel to their home. And there shouldn't be any kind of tournament. They don't go to tournaments, they don't watch players. Players come to them... Rafael's whole statement only cements her earlier assessment of this strange situation – something is deeply wrong here and she still can't make heads or tails of it.

“What hotel? What tournament?”

“Meri, are you sure you are alright? Maybe we should get a doctor or drive to a clinic instead of the hotel. You seem very confused... and you are very pale.”

It is the third time now that Rafael tries to get her to reassure him that she is doing well and by now it is more than just a little irritating. She doesn't want his concern, she doesn't want to answer the same question over and over again. What she wants is a chance to find out what the hell is going on here. But Rafael is too worked up about her and the fact that she acts out of place to actually help her and tell her what she needs to know. She can't take any more of this gentle hovering. She needs for him to stop and be of use. She snaps.

“Just answer the damn question!”

“Okay... I... I'm sorry. We're in New York, at Arthur Ashe Stadium. You remember, don't you?”

If she hadn't been sure she is in deep trouble and in some bizarre nightmare of a place and time she thinks she knows but can't make no sense of, she is absolutely sure now. Maybe she is dreaming and indeed having a nightmare. But this feels too real to be a bad dream. And Rafael reacts completely out of character. Instead of engaging in the argument, telling her to not dare treat him this way and lose his patience with her just the same, he looks taken aback... and reacts almost timid. At least he finally bestows her with some proper answers and even though none of them sound in any way right to her, she decides to play along. Otherwise he will only question her about her health again...

“Yes. Yes, I do. Must have been the... blackout. The darkness. It scared me.”

“You have never been afraid of the dark before. That's my thing.”

There is the softest of smiles on his face and an almost painful prickle runs down the woman's spine. This man is not her husband – she is absolutely sure of that know. The man she has married is not afraid of anything and even if he were he would never admit to it. This version of Rafael however wears his heart on his sleeve and has no problem whatsoever to admitting to his faults and flaws. This version of him... is all wrong. But she can't tell him that. Not until she is fully aware and sure of what is going on here. For now, all she can do is play along. She forces a smile on her lips that probably looks like a grimace of pain more than anything.

“First time for everything.”

Rafael – if that is even his name – shrugs his shoulders in response, obviously accepting her answer at face value. Then he holds out a hand for her to grab, wanting to help her to her feet. She is reluctant to take the offered help. After all – despite the definitive resemblance in their looks – this man is a stranger to her. But she fears refusing him will only cause a new battery of questions to descend on her. She isn't quick enough though. He lets his hands fall to his sides before she can grab them, yet another look of confusion – mixed with disappointment – on his face. Instead of helping her, he tries to coax her with words now.

“Do you think you can get up? We should leave the grounds and get to the car.”

“Yes, of course I can get up. I'm a little shaken, not invalid!”

“Okay...”

Rafael has that same stricken, slightly hurt expression on his face yet again, when she snaps at him for a second time. Like her words have hurt him or something... Of course it has to be a trick of the light, because Rafael would never be that sensitive and overly emphatic... But then again she is already very sure this man in front of her is not Rafael... at least not how she knows him. But maybe she is all wrong and it is her lingering confusion that makes her misinterpret the way he acts around her. Hopefully moving around will help with that. Hopefully everything will make sense once the fog in her head has cleared...

It's only when she gets up now – careful and tentative with Rafael hovering by her side like he is afraid she will fall or something - that she realizes she has been on a rather uncomfortable plastic chair and there are two large bags standing right next to her. To her wholehearted surprise her husband – who, for some reason – claims to be her fiance, picks up the two large bags and shoulders them, looking at her expectantly, obviously ready to go.

“What did you do that for?”

“Do what?”

“Pick up the bags.”

“They are mine. Who else was supposed to take them?”

Something clicks deep within her mind. Rafael has said they are at Arthur Ashe Stadium. But that still doesn't explain why he would have a racket bag on him... and why he would carry it around with him. After all there are volunteers and tournament officials and lesser players all around. Somebody should have offered to help along before she has ever become aware of the bags. But somehow that hasn't happened... Yet another piece of the puzzle she cannot place.

“There are people around for that. And you shouldn't have those anyway!”

“I would be pretty lost if I didn't have them. Wouldn't have been able to play and win my match tonight without a racket bag. Really, Meri – you are being silly tonight.”

He actually scolds her and calls her out on her – obviously stupid – words and behavior, but he does so with a softness to his tone of voice and a gleam of affection in his eyes that simply don't go with the insult. It's almost like he is... teasing her. She swallows hard, because the realization of what he has said sinks in only now. They aren't here to watch – which would be strange enough already. They are here because Rafael has played a match and that in itself is the most bizarre fact she has been confronted with up until now.

“You still play.”

“Of course I do! Are you absolutely sure you don't need a doctor?”

He is asking about her health yet again but this time she refuses to snap at him again. Obviously that only warrants more concern and empathy to pour out of him and she really can't stand that. She has no idea who this version of her husband is and why she is here with him and he acts like he knows her, but she does know it is wrong. Maybe somebody has kidnapped her and put her under. Maybe she is hallucinating. Either way she knows the only thing she can trust is her own instinct. And instinct tells her to play ball for now. She nods, almost over enthusiastically, and hopes to be reassuring doing it.

“Yes... Yes, I'm sure. Lets go...”

They do just that, with her following Rafael through the catacombs of a stadium she is no longer familiar with. When they step out of the air-conditioned halls and into the hot, humid night air of the city, a cluster of excited people is waiting for them outside. They hold up slips of paper, large tennis balls, magazine clippings, pictures and other stuff and it seems they want to have it signed. They want Rafael's signature... She is about to laugh at the idiocy of it all, when her husband – her fiance for whatever reason – half turns and gives her an apologetic smile, motioning for her to go ahead and step into the waiting car already.

“Just a minute, okay? I promise I'll be quick.”

She watches in fascination as he actually goes over to the group of people, drops one of the two bags he is still carrying while the other one stays slung over his shoulder and takes the first pen offered to him, starting to scrawl his signature on the multitude of paraphernalia offered to him. She is about ready to laugh out loud at the utter ridiculousness of the scene... and she feels dizzy and very much frightened at the very same time. Something is wrong here – very, very wrong. She is in the wrong place, at the wrong time and apparently with the wrong man by her side...

Somehow her feet carry her to the waiting car the tournament officials have provided for them and she opens the door, drops down on the back seat and closes the door again quickly. Inside the car the air is cool and dry and she feels a little bit better. But outside her husband – who claims not to be married to her after all – is still signing his name to other people's belongings. A hysterical laugh threatens to escape her lips and she utters a couple of whispered and very bewildered words as she tries to make sense of the situation she is trapped in without warning or explanation.

“What is this?! And where the hell am I...”


	2. Chapter 2

She's sitting, which makes no sense because she has just been standing in the middle of a sunlit room just a moment ago. Now it is dark, which makes no sense whatsoever either. It's also colder – the air cooled down artificially by an air conditioning system – and the smell of the room she is in is entirely different. The soft breeze of the Mediterranean sea mixed with the scent coming from the kitchen where an early dinner is prepared is gone. In it's place there is a mixture of slightly stale air and a lingering scent of cleaning products. But the most disconcerting thing of it all is the fact that a little, impatient voice is calling out to her, calling her something that can only be meant as a joke.

“Mama! Mamaaaa wake up! No sleepy time yet. We want dinner.”

“What the hell...”

It is only now that she realizes her eyes are closed for some reason.   
There is a child right on front of her, a boy of about 6, tugging at the sleeve of her shirt and looking at her impatiently, while never once keeping still, moving from one foot to the other.   
Her curse has obviously confused the boy, but even though he seems a little less enthusiastic to get her attention now, he doesn't scram and go back to wherever he belongs. Instead he calls out to her again and this time she is definitely sure of what she hears... and it makes no sense. It has to be a joke and it is in very bad taste.

“Mama?”

“Who are you?! Who do you belong to and what the hell are you doing here?!”

Her tone of voice is angry, unforgiving and very much impatient and of course she startles the little boy to no end. The kid stops his fidgeting, standing stock still and he pales visibly. Then the inevitable reaction, almost any child shows when being confronted with an angry grown up, comes. The boys lower lip starts to tremble, his breath hitches and then he starts to cry, sobbing softly, before turning tale and running away, getting away from her as fast as he possibly can. Mirka breathes a sigh of relief. One problem dealt with... but still a whole battery of them left.

Now that she is alone and nobody is pestering her, she takes a closer look at her surroundings. She is not in the dining hall of the Mallorcan hotel any more and – from the view the floor length window on one of the upper floors of what must be a hotel gives her, she is not on the island any more either. It makes no sense, just as the kid in the room makes no sense, but she forces herself not to panic. Panic won't help. What she needs is to compartmentalize, breathe... and switch into problem solving mode. She needs answers.

The fact that this is not the room she has been in before, most definitely not even the place she has been in before, doesn't bother her half as much as the presence of the child. Mercifully the little boy has definitely run from her with no chance of him coming back. He is probably hiding in a corner somewhere, big fat tears running down his cheeks. She really doesn't care though. She doesn't know the kid, has never been particularly fond of children anyway. What she does care about though, are answers. And right now there is only one person she can think of who can give her those answers.

“Roger?”

It doesn't take long for her husband to react to her calling for him, but when he enters the room, something feels slightly off about him. From the way he holds himself, to the way he moves, right down to the way he looks at her and the way his voice sounds when he addresses her. It sends a shiver down Mirka's spine she cannot stop from happening. He looks like her husband but the similarities end right there and then. Still it would be idiotic and ridiculous to assume Roger has suddenly morphed into a different person. It's not the trick her own mind plays on her she is worried about. It is the fact that there is a stranger's child around... and for that she wants a proper explanation.

“There is a child in our room.”

“Actually there are four children in our room... And you just scared the living daylights out of Leo. What has gotten into you?”

There is a mixture of both reproach and amusement to her husband's voice, like she has just made some rather hilarious mistake. To add insult to injury Roger obviously knows the name of the strange boy, while she still draws a complete blank when it comes to the origins of the kid or the reason for him being here. It seems she is supposed to know this kid... at least that is what Roger seems to expect of her. Mirka is aware she has to sound stupid, echoing her husband's words. But she can't help it.

“Leo?”

“Yes. Our son. Leo, brother to Lenny, sibling of Myla and Charlene?”

“Did... did you just say four?”

Drawing the obviously conclusion from Roger's earlier statement that there are four children in their rooms with them and that the boy she has just sent away is their son – along with a couple of other kids, whose names she has never heard before – takes Mirka a while and when she does, she feels like a ton of bricks has just landed on top of her head. Somehow, and she truly has no idea how it is possible, there are children in her and Roger's life. Children that have not been there just a couple of minutes ago. And not just one or two of them, but a whole bobsled team of them! But Mirka is quite obviously the only one appalled at that realization. Roger – right in front of her – acts like it's the most normal thing in the world. If at all, the only thing he is appalled by is her behavior and her lack of recognition.

“Of course I said four! Or is there something I don't know about?”

“Something you don't know about?”

“You... you're not pregnant, are you? I mean it would explain the mood and the obvious confusion...”

He is trying to joke, she can tell by the way his lips curl into a smile and a gleam shows in his eyes. She can appreciate neither of those gestures. To Mirka, this is no joking matter. Children have never been part of their plans ever before and all of a sudden she has them, four of them, and none of them recently from the looks of it. And as if that wasn't enough, her husband actually seems to think she still wants to add to the bunch they already have! Mirka can't help but retaliate and not with humor but with very poignant irritation.

“Of course I'm not pregnant! What a ridiculous thing to say...”

“Then what are you so upset about, it was worth to scare our son and make him cry in the process?”

Reproach is the only thing left in Roger's voice now and Mirka has no idea what to say to him. She can't very well tell him she has snapped at the kid because she hasn't known he is hers... It is only now she becomes aware of the fact, that – despite the strange room and place and time – there are subtle differences to her husband too... Her husband... who is not the man standing in front of her. The realization hits her hard and very suddenly, but deep in her gut and heart, Mirka knows it is true. She also knows she has to be careful... and that she has to lie.

“I... He... startled me is all.”

Roger – or whoever this imposer is who claims to be her husband and who wants her to believe she is a mother of four – nods at that, but he looks anything but convinced. She wonders if there is any malicious intent, but then again the man in front of her would probably act different if there was. The one thing Mirka can clearly discern is that this... version of Roger knows nothing about their life, at least not the life Mirka remembers – where they are a couple but not a family, where she is supposed to be on Mallorca right now and where she is not grilled about the way she talks to a child that manages to get on her nerves... None of that seems to be part of whatever life, whatever reality this is. And just the same Mirka remembers nothing about a life in which she and Roger would travel the world with four children on their tail...

Something strange is going on here and as if the fact that she has somehow crossed space and time without noticing or being able to explain it weren't enough, Roger acting like this and feeling like a complete stranger to her, should be her obvious clue. As is the absence of the people they have both been with before Mirka has found herself in this different and very much scary reality. Maybe she shouldn't, maybe it will only cause new suspicion to arise, but she has to know... and right now this man in front of her she is pretty sure is not the same one she was just with minutes ago, is her only source of information.

“You wouldn't by any chance know where Rafael and Francisca are?”

“Nadal?”

“Yes, of course! Who else would I be talking about?”

Mirka realizes too late, that if Roger acts different from the person she knows and their family life is different as well, there is a very good chance their relationship with Rafael and Francisca is entirely different either. Why else would they have been in the same place just moments ago and now Roger has no clue why Mirka is asking about them? But she can't take back the words she has said now and Roger's confused reactions only manages to fuel her irritation... and makes her blab out more than she probably should.

“Why would I know about their whereabouts?”

“Because we are friends with them.”

“I wouldn't exactly call it a friendship.”

“Are you sure?”

The way Roger looks at her, the edge to his voice when he answers her, the vehemence to his words, it all strikes Mirka as odd. Maybe this man is a stranger to her, but he is still Roger and she knows the version of him in the reality she is used to intimately enough to be aware that he is fibbing... if not lying to her. Either way there is something he is not telling her. Something that has him on edge... Something she can't put her finger on but can't be bothered to probe him about right now. There are more important questions at hand that need an answer.

“Of course I'm sure. It's more of a loose relationship based on the fact that Rafa and I both compete on the pro tour.”

There is an answer somewhere in Roger's words, but Mirka cannot make sense of it. Apparently she is right about the fact that the relationship between her and Roger and Francisca and Rafael is different in this... strange new world. But she needs a moment to even connect the dots here and realize Roger is even talking about Rafael, calling him by an unfamiliar nickname. And then there is the mention of the pro tour, which she assumes can only mean tennis. But that makes even less sense to her and yet again she finds herself echoing Roger's own words as if that will help her to understand.

“Rafa... Pro tour?”

“Mirka, you seem very much confused tonight. Maybe you should go and lie down.”

It's a friendly offer, not a request or demand but still it doesn't sit right with her. It is true that she is probably not making any sense to this man, talking about a life and relationships to people he has no clue about. But the only way to comb through the misty haze that has settled around her, is to push through. And for that she needs this version of Roger and she needs for him to be open and honest with her. She wants answers, not sympathy.

“Why are you calling him that?”

“Who?”

“Rafael.”

“I always called him Rafa... except on one or two occasions. I guess the only people using his given name are his parents and his uncle... It's not like anyone calls his fiance by her given name either.”

“His fiance?”

“Meri. You just called her Francisca, which – as far as I'm informed – she doesn't like at all.”

“But they are married!”

Obviously Mirka has made yet another crucial mistake and has assumed something as fact, that has simply not happened in this reality. It seems utterly strange to her, especially because Rafael and Francisca are still very much a couple in this strange world... just not a married one. This time Roger gives a nervous chuckle but the look on his face – somewhere between worry for her and a not very well veiled fear for her sanity – betrays him. He is gentle in his tone of voice when he explains the actual facts to her, almost as if he were talking to an agitated child, worried to make a temper tantrum worse.

“Not yet, hon. Not for about another month. You know this. Actually you told me about the wedding date only... three nights ago.”

“I did?”

“Yes!”

Mirka nods at that, though – of course – she has no memory whatsoever of telling Roger about some ominous wedding date that the Spanish couple has set. In her mind, in the reality she remembers, the couple has been married for almost a decade – happily and steadily so. It has been the topic of one too many jokes between the four of them, with almost exactly one year in between Roger's and Mirka's marriage and the wedding date of the Spanish couple. Thinking about them brings another fact of difference to the forefront of Mirka's thinking and even though she knows she sets herself up for even more suspicion, she can't help but ask about it.

“We are not on Mallorca?”

“It's the middle of the US Open, Mirka! Why on earth would we be on Rafa's home island?”

“Because... Never mind.”

She refrains from even trying to explain the question to Roger, because he can never understand. In this world, apparently, Roger and Rafael are nothing but acquaintances, rivals of the sport – though she is still sure there is more to it than meets the eye – and she and Francisca aren't even close to being befriended either. Something in their past is entirely different... and Roger is the only one who can help her find out what exactly that difference is. She has to get to the bottom of all this, otherwise she is sure she is actually about to lose her damn mind!

“US Open... This is New York then?”

“Yes.”

“And we have... four children?”

“Yes.”

“And we came to watch the matches?”

“You watch. I play.”

Yet another blow, yet another unbelievable fact, yet another monumental difference in their lives Mirka has not expected. And she isn't able to stop her mouth from working before her brain has actually sorted the facts into order and makes sense of them. It's almost like she is on autopilot and of course she says the wrong thing, raising the man's, that is supposedly her Roger, suspicion yet again.

“You play?!”

“Yes, of course I do.”

For now Mirka has heard enough, her mind already reeling from all this unbelievable information that doesn't even remotely coincide with the reality she knows. The one constant, it seems, is Roger. They are still a couple, still married, still in love and devoted to one another. But that is where the similarities end. Apparently in this life she is a mother, a traveling tennis wife and living some sort of semi nomadic existence without the help, friendship and support of the one woman she trust the most in her life – which would be Francisca. It is a lot to take in... and it actually manages to make her physically ill and dizzy.

“I think I'll take that chance to lie down now...”

“Yes. That sounds reasonable.”

For just a second there, it looks like Roger is about to offer her a hand in support. But he decides otherwise – not sure or happy about his choice – and Mirka is actually glad about it. Dealing with physical contact with this man who looks so much like her husband but is entirely strange to her, on top of everything else she has just found out and still tries to wrap her head around, is simply too much. She gets up from the chair she has been sitting on up until now and for a second she feels actually dizzy and nauseated. But the feeling passes quickly and Mirka is ready to leave for the bedroom. She is stopped once more time though and this time she manages to be truthful without actually making Roger suspicious again.

“Are you alright?”

“No. But - hopefully - I will be.”


	3. Chapter 3

*That same night*

It's a very strange night for Francisca, but then again this whole evening ever since she has found herself in New York instead of on her home island, has been strange to her. On their way back to the hotel after Rafael is finally done with the insipid and quite demanding group of people and doesn't even seem to mind them nagging him like this, he has kept calling her Meri on every last occasion he has gotten to call her by name. Obviously it is some sort of nickname and apparently it is his usual way to address her – at least in this strange reality. She is unfamiliar with it though and she doesn't like it. She has a proper given name after all. He can use it.

The other way around, the man, who is not her husband even though she feels he should be, has reacted rather confused and bewildered to her calling him by his given name. He hasn't said anything at first, has simply frowned at her, obviously hoping that would be enough to make her stop. But as the – strained – conversation between them had drawn on, he has made his confusion known. And it has gone as far as to him asking her if he has done something wrong, something to anger her or disappoint her, which has resulted in yet another awful and way too anxious piece of conversation.

“Are you angry with me about something? Did I... hurt you in any way?”

“No. There's nothing wrong. Why would I be angry with you?”

“You keep calling me 'Rafael'.”

“That is your name.”

It's a rather obvious statement but Rafael seems to need the reminder. At least this reality's version of him does. But as she learns rather quickly, there is more than just the difference in his looks and demeanor. They even talk to one another differently here... and they use nicknames for each other, something that would never even have crossed either of their minds in the world Francisca knows and remembers. Here however the nickname is the usual address and it seems their given names are only reserved for scolding. At least that is what Rafael tells her now.

“I know that. But you don't usually use it. Only if you wish to let me know I have done something wrong... So?”

“You have done nothing wrong. I just... What do I usually call you?”

“Rafa, of course.”

Francisca frowns but makes a conscious effort to smooth her face again. As she is apparently supposed to know this, she can't make a scene yet again. Rafael is already suspicious of her and that is the last thing she needs right now. Once she knows what has happened to her, they can have any kind of argument the man looking so familiar and yet so strange to her at the very same time wants to have. But for now she needs the safety of a situation she can control and in order to achieve that she needs for this reality's version of her husband to trust her and not to doubt her intentions... or worse – her origin and very person.

“Of course... And 'Meri' is your nickname for me?”

“Yes. But you knew that, didn't you?”

“As I said, I'm still a little shaken and confused. Sorry for all the dumb questions...”

Francisca forces another smile on her face and this time she manages more easily. It feels less like a grimace now and it seems Rafael is satisfied with her effort... or he is simply to exhausted and tired to get into another discussion with her, probing and trying to get her to admit something is wrong with her. After everything he has told her, he has just finished a tennis match and all the responsibilities that go with it. He is bound to be tired. Right now the main thing he is is understanding and accommodating, very much wanting Francisca to feel alright after she has been this shaken by the earlier events. It seems he simply wants to make sure she is definitely and one hundred percent alright.

“That's okay. Maybe we should skip dinner and go to bed when we're back at the hotel? A good night's sleep will help...”

“No, that's okay. I'm actually hungry. Let's have room service.”

Rafael – Rafa, as he has just pointed out to her – frowns at her but doesn't say anything. Obviously room service for just the two of them is not a regular thing in this strange world either. She wonders why that is. Of course there is family involved in their... real lives, the lives she remembers. But mostly it is just the two of them. But this is all different and maybe, just maybe Rafa likes to take a larger group out to dinner. Her assumption is only further affirmed when Rafa picks up his cell phone and starts typing just seconds later. Francisca doesn't even try to stifle her curiosity.

“Who are you texting?”

“Carlos. To tell him we won't be joining the rest of the team for dinner.”

The question what he means by 'rest of the team' is already on the tip of her tongue, but Francisca refrains from asking it. The matter-of-factly tone to Rafa's voice while he is still typing and keeping his gaze focused on the screen of the phone in his hand indicates she is supposed to know about this as well. It doesn't really matter. Right now all that matters is that Rafa is the only person for her to deal with and that she safely reaches the confines of a room in which she – hopefully – will have a chance to find out more about this bizarre reality she has ended up in.

“Okay. Thank you.”

Dinner is just as awkward as the rest of their time spent together, yet again just the two of them in a confined space with nobody else around as a buffer and nothing much to talk about. But this is what she has wanted, because like this Francisca only has to fear to ask any questions - she is supposed to know the answers to - to Rafa. She is pretty certain – even though she has assured him of the contrary – Rafael, Rafa, in no way believes her that there is nothing wrong between them. He is still suspicious or at least slightly worried about her.

In the end – and of that she is sure as well - they are both happy to be done with their meal and when Rafa announces he is going to bed, Francisca doesn't stop him. She tells him she will follow soon after, but that is a blatant lie. She is happy for a chance to be alone, happy for a chance to use the hotel WiFi, get on the internet and finally find out what the hell has happened to her and where she has ended up. She barely even waits before Rafa has closed the door to the bedroom behind him and uses the first mobile device she comes across to start her search.

It's a laptop and when she turns it on, she is quickly confronted with the fact, that not only is she in a different place, but she has ended up about three and a half weeks into the future as well. Back home, on Mallorca, it should have been mid to late July, with Wimbledon just having come to a close. Here however it is already late August... and the US Open are in the first week of the tournament. When the man who is definitely not her husband has come to fetch her, he has just won his third round match in straight sets, which is something he has told her and which she finds confirmed when looking for sports news on the internet.

Her search expands from there, as she actually googles her husband's name on the internet and what she finds is disconcerting to say the least. Mostly it reveals details to her, because the general facts she already has gathered from their earlier conversation. Rafael – who it seems everybody calls by nickname, be it fans and media, team, tournament officials, umpires or other players – still plays tennis. The two of them still are unmarried, though they have been together for a decade and a half and a wedding date is apparently set for the next month. And obviously she has never complained – not about the traveling, not about the lack of a legal binding between them, not about anything. She is a faithful and loyal girlfriend being dragged along... Somehow that is even more surreal than the tennis aspect of her search. She cannot picture herself as that kind of a woman... But in this world she is.

Francisca uncovers more facts – about Rafa's team and family, about the tournament progression so far, about major victories in previous years – but it is mainly to make sure she is acquainted with the facts and does not slip up or say something that will make Rafa suspicious of her again. She also tries to find out what has happened, but she doesn't get far with it. There has been a blackout of almost ten minutes in the whole of Queens right around the time the same thing has happened back on Mallorca... She can only assume that has caused her presence here and that her counterpart in this world has switched places with her... It's a hilariously fantastic explanation. But it is the only one she comes up with.

Lastly Francisca also checks on Roger and Mirka. She has forgotten all about them for the time being, too focused on making sure this world's Rafa trusts her, but now that she is alone and has time to think, she scolds herself for her ignorance. After all Mirka has been right there with her in the dining room during the damn blackout. There is a very real chance she is around here somewhere as well. And her search brings up the very real possibility that Mirka is in New York as well. Her and Roger exist in this world and apparently the Swiss is still playing on the pro tour – accompanied by his wife most of the time – just as Rafael does. Reading that is a relief to her and it also fills her with a sense of purpose. If she has been affected by the power surge, so has Mirka – she is sure of that. It will be her first order of business on the new day. Find the other woman and come up with a plan to get both of them back home where they belong.

*#*

Lying down has actually helped Mirka a little. It is not that she has slept. But she has had the bedroom to herself – her husband taking care of those four children that are apparently theirs – while she has had a chance to relax, regroup and think things through. She needs more information – that is the main consensus of her thought process. And she needs to be careful. Searching on the internet for things she should already know will only raise new suspicions.

Apart from that, she really doesn't want to return to the main room while the children are still up and about. This world's version of her might be a happy mother, but she is definitely not good with children. Never has been. And she does not want to be confronted with anyone 25 or more years her junior. Not tonight. Wrapping her head around her situation is tough enough as it is already. There is no need for anything else to add to that. Right now – dealing with the terrifying prospect of not knowing how she came to be here and how to get back where she belongs – Mirka feels a deep need to distance herself from the life of the woman whose place she has taken.

So when Roger comes to bed a little while later, after having settled the kids in for the night judging from the decrease in noise from the main room, she ignores his soft question whether she is already asleep and pretends to be exactly that. A soft sheen of light falls onto the bed as Roger moves to the adjacent bathroom and gets ready for the night. When he returns, Mirka has turned to her side, her back facing his side of the bed. It's bad enough that she has to sleep in a bed with a man that looks like her husband but is a stranger to her. She certainly doesn't want to offer him any kind of encouragement.

When Roger returns from the bathroom and settles in next to her, the only physical contact he searches is a gentle touch to her back, as his fingers run down her spine, sending a shiver down it. It's a small but intimate gesture, though it is the only one he engages in, apparently not wanting to wake her. He wishes her a good night in hushed tones after that – voice soft and loving. In the darkness – with his voice sounding exactly like she remembers it and the difference in demeanor and appearance no longer part of the equation as she can't see him anyway – a deep longing settles in her stomach and almost manages to break through her resolve to not turn around. She fights it down... and then she waits.

It takes quite an amount of time – she cannot be certain lying here in the dark with no chance to check her watch on the nightstand how long exactly – but finally she is sure that the lack of moving around and the deep even breathing she can hear right next to her, means Roger has fallen asleep. She waits another couple of minutes just to be sure and then Mirka gets up as quietly and carefully as she can, moving back into the main room and powering up the laptop on the coffee table by the couch.

The first thing she checks out is herself. The facts of her life are pretty much the same ones here as they have been in her own reality. With some major differences of course. Apparently, by the time of their wedding 10 years ago, she has already been pregnant. That has never happened in the life she remembers. Then she has been pregnant again in this reality only five years ago. Another event she has no memory of whatsoever. And of course there is the fact, that – unlike in her reality – Roger has not stopped playing tennis in 2016, at age 35, as had been their initial plan.

Obviously the couple in this life has made different choices, choices Mirka simply cannot understand. But for now she doesn't have to understand them. All she needs is to be acquainted with the facts. Because the last thing she needs is for her husband – or the man being her husband in this reality – to doubt her. She looks up and memorizes the most basic facts of her husband's career... and of their home life, where she inevitably has to deal with the fact that she is a mother in this world yet again.

Leo, Lenny, Myla and Charlene... Those are her children's names in this reality and that feels so utterly surreal, Mirka has to hide back a laugh that is somewhere between frustration and hysteria. She has heard the names earlier, still has a vague memory of the ring of them in her ears but she cannot put a face to any of the names. Even Leo – the boy who has woken her and has demanded her attention – is just a blur of pink cheeks and a mop of unruly hair in her memory. She couldn't pick the kid out in a group of young boys if her life depended on it...

As she has seen only one of the kids so far – and has a hard time remembering the boy's face – she decides to check. After all she cannot sit at a breakfast table with those children tomorrow and not know which name belongs to which child. The search engine provides her with pictures. Mirka curses under her breath. Twins... Both of them – the girls as well as the boys. How the hell is she ever supposed to tell them apart if she can't even keep their damn names in mind?!

“Come to bed, hon. It's really late.”

Roger's voice sounding in the main room all of a sudden almost manages to make Mirka jump out of her skin. She looks up abruptly and finds the half asleep version of her husband standing in the doorway to the bedroom, giving her a questioning look. She half expects him to ask her what she is doing up and on the internet at this hour, but either he respects her privacy or he is too tired to care. Either way, Mirka is glad the screen of the laptop does not face into his direction. Explaining to Roger why she is looking at pictures of their own children on the internet... that is not something she can do... She smiles at him, forcing her voice to be calm and gentle.

“I'll be there in a minute.”

If there is any protest, the fact that Roger is tired makes it disappear immediately. Instead he nods at her and turns to go back to bed. Mirka knows she should follow. For now she knows everything she needs to know in order not too draw new suspicion to herself. But a sudden surge of inspiration tells her to check on the Spanish couple. After all they have been on Mallorca before and Francisca has been right there with her when this whole mystery has started. Apart from that she is simply curious about Rafael's and Francisca's life in this reality.

The information she turns up confronts her with a quick news video from this evening, obviously taken after the blackout as the couple is leaving the tournament grounds together. The second she lets the video play – more out of interest than expecting to find anything useful - Mirka can tell. From the way the younger woman holds herself in that video, to the mildly irritated and confused scowl on her face. She knows her. This is Francisca, the Francisca she knows and calls her friend and confidante in the world she comes from. Apparently they are indeed in this together...

Excitement follows the realization but is quickly replaced by frustration. She cannot try to get in contact with the other woman – at least not right now and not all on her own. She could ask for Roger's help of course, could ask for his phone, but it is the middle of the night – as he has just pointed out to her – and it makes no sense trying to get into contact with Francisca now. She could still curse herself for not having her phone on her when this damn surreal bout of fantasy has happened. Everything else she has had on her person has come to this strange world with her. Had she her cell phone on her, she could call the other woman right now. But this way it will have to wait until tomorrow. The best thing she can do right now is get some sleep and gather her strength for a new, challenging and most definitely difficult day tomorrow. She shuts off the electronic device and follows Roger back to bed.


	4. Chapter 4

Rafa has something that isn't exactly a nightmare, but it is not a pleasant dream either. Of course he isn't aware of it at the time, because what he sees and feels, seems so damn real to him, it is hard to discern reality from fiction. He wakes suddenly and with a soft gasp and it takes a moment to realize where he is and that the disconcerting images he has just been confronted with, have indeed been just a figment of his imagination.

In his dream, he has been in a barely lit corridor, with no chance to see what is at the end of it. He has felt lost and very much uncomfortable. Then there has been his fiance's voice – disembodied, frightened and desperate. She has called out to him, has pleaded for his help, but calling out to her has not provided any kind of response. It has felt like she was trying to get his attention, without actually being able to even hear him in return.

The longer he walks the corridors – or actually jogs down them, his pace picking up more and more until he is actually out of breath – the more desperate do Meri's calls get. It's when she screams – seemingly in terror – that he wakes up, needing a couple of moments to regroup and shake the horrifying feeling that has grabbed a hold of him. When he turns to tell his fiance, the bed next to him is empty and a very sudden feeling of dread settles in the pit of his stomach. What if it has not just been a dream...

Rafa hurries to get out of bed, actually causing a rush of dizziness from the sudden motion. It takes a moment for the feeling to pass, for the rushing in his ears to subside again, but then he presses on. There are no sounds coming from the main room and that only manages to worry him further. It's not that Meri is usually a loud person when she is up and around, especially when he himself is still in bed asleep, but still – after the dream he has just woken from – Rafa can't help the bad feeling that has settled in his stomach.

But he is happy to realize he is completely overreacting, because when he enters the main room, Meri is right there on the couch, balancing the laptop on her lap, cup of coffee right in front of her on the table. Her hair, which – for some reason he realizes only now – looks a lot less curly and a shade darker than he is used to – is pulled back into a messy ponytail. She's in a pair of hot pants and a dark blue, almost black Nike shirt, that is definitely his. And she is deeply engrossed in whatever she is doing, only looking up at him, slightly startled, when he breathes a soft sigh of relief.

“There you are... I was worried.”

“Why?”

“Bad dream...”

“About me?”

“Yes.”

“Mh.”

Her reaction is subdued, almost cold and lacks any of her usual empathy. Rafa still can't shake the feeling, that – despite her reassurances to the contrary – Meri is angry with him for some reason. But she doesn't seem to want to talk about it – neither last night, nor now. She barely even looks at him for more than three seconds, before her gaze refocuses on the computer screen in front of her and Rafa finds himself wondering what could be so important to her, she can't pry her eyes away from it.

Either she is aware of him watching her or maybe it is the slightly awkward silence descending on them. Either way, it takes less than 30 seconds, before Meri looks up again and this time she smiles. It's not a genuine reaction, more like she has to force herself, but it is better than no friendly reaction at all. She closes the laptop without actually shutting it down and points to the table at the far end of the room, right by the sliding doors leading to the balcony, where an array of food, plates and cutlery indicates Meri has already had breakfast... alone.

“I ordered breakfast through room service. Most of it should still be warm.”

“Thanks.”

Rafa's answer is an automatic one, born out of politeness more than anything. It seems his fiance has suddenly developed a liking for room service and for spending their time away from the rest of the team and Rafa's family. Something they usually wouldn't do. But she has every right to her own decisions of course and it is just one meal. He can definitely deal with one meal they eat separately and away from the rest of the group traveling with them. Still, Meri's behavior has not lost any of it's oddity that has started last night and Rafa's nightmare only amplifies the feeling that something is wrong.

He could tell her of course, but Meri has assured him before and has been very much impatient with him when he has tried to coax her into talking to him about how she feels... He decides to drop the matter for now and instead get into contact with the rest of his team and family, who are – undoubtedly – wondering where he and Meri have been all morning. He is not surprised to find several – yet unanswered - text messages on his phone when he takes a look, all of them questioning his and Meri's absence at breakfast. Before he ever has a chance to compose an answer, he is startled by the sudden presence of his fiance right next to him. He hasn't even heard her getting up or walking over.

„You have Roger's phone number, do you not?“

„Yes. I do. But...“

Rafa never gets the chance to inquire why Meri would want to talk to the Swiss. He definitely doesn't like the idea of it. What could she possibly want or have to ask of the older man that would not cause implications or trouble for everyone involved? His relationship with Roger is a... unique one, maybe even a complicated one and the one and only time he ever has lied to Meri about something. But there are things she simply doesn't need to know about, and he definitely doesn't want her to find out now. But she is insistent and very much demanding as she holds out a hand for him to drop his cellphone into.

„Give me your phone, will you?“

„Why?“

„Because I asked you to.“

There it is again, that almost angry impatience, that has caught Rafa off guard a couple of times now since last night. It also manages to render every last thought of protest inert. He still isn't exactly forthcoming, but he hands her the phone and his fiance nods in approvement. Her reaction is just as strange as her previous impatience. He wishes she would simply tell him what is bothering her, but his wish is as much in vain now as it has been before.

Closing her fingers around the familiar shape of the phone, Meri feels a sudden surge of both relief and triumph. The chance she has been waiting for all night is now presenting itself and she can finally find out if she is in this strange world all alone. Rafa has not made things easy for her, only further cementing her believe that her relationship with Mirka here is nothing like the one they share in the life she remembers. And Rafa doesn't seem to like the idea of her talking to Roger either. Which is ridiculous of course. But the confused and slightly anxious expression never quite vanishes from Rafael's face – a face so intimately familiar to her and yet completely foreign. Francisca hides back a sigh of frustration. She really needs to find a way home – because sooner or later she will not be able to fight down the instinct to strangle this shadow of the man she is married to back in her world.

She holds on to the phone, not quite sure what to say now, and in the end decides to say nothing at all. She disappears into the adjacent room without another word of explanation and closes the door behind her. Rafa will probably question her about it later. But for right now she doesn't care. The conversation she plans to have is one she needs to have in private. If she and Mirka are indeed in this together, neither Rafa nor Roger can ever now – at least not the people they are in this reality. Meri scrolls through the list of contacts on Rafa's phone, finally finding the Swiss' number. It takes a little while before somebody answers and Meri half-questions if maybe it is still too early. But then Roger picks up and she tries to stick to the approach her mind has already mapped out before. It isn't as easy as she has hoped for.

„Roger, this is Maria Francisca, Rafael's wi... Rafa's fiance.“

„Yes, of course... Hi there. I didn't expect to hear your voice. Is... everything okay?“

„Rafae... Rafa is fine. I just... I hoped for a chance to talk to your wife. Is she there?“

„Yes, yes she is. But I think she's still asleep...“

“Could you check?”

“Yes, yes of course.”

There is a moment of loaded silence, in which this version of Roger obviously debates asking her the reason for Francisca wanting to talk to his wife. It only goes to show that her and Mirka aren't exactly close in this reality... In their world a phone call would be no problem. Then again in their world the version of Mirka's husband would be a lot more demanding with his request for useful answers. In the end this version of Roger decides to respect both her and Mirka's privacy and agrees to the rather uncommon request.

„Just a moment.“

She can hear the rustling of clothes as Roger apparently pushes the phone closer to his chest and then she hears muffled footsteps and Roger's voice as he addresses his wife in what is most definitely German. It takes another couple of seconds and then the phone is exchanged and Francisca can hear footsteps again and a door closing softly. Obviously Mirka has done the same thing she has and has left for an adjacent room to have some privacy. It takes a few more seconds – in which she can hear the other woman take a calming breath and then her voice sounds in Francisca's ears. She knows it immediately, knows it before the words actually make sense to her. This is the Mirka she knows...

“Francisca, is that you?”

“Yes! Yes it's me... Oh my god... It's so good to hear your voice! I was afraid I was all alone in this bizarre nightmare!”

For the first time since this whole nightmare has started, Francisca actually allows herself to let her guard down just a little. Emotions break through the cracks almost immediately and tears threaten to fall. She has a hard time fighting them down – the situation threatening to simply overwhelm her – but she manages somehow. Mirka on the other end of the line either ignores her emotional outburst intentionally or tries to be discreet. Either way Francisca appreciates the effort. But it's not like Mirka is not emotional herself. Though her reaction is mostly one of disbelief... and anger.

“I... I don't understand what happened. One second I was in the dining hall of the hotel on Mallorca and the next I am in some hotel suite in what is apparently New York City, with a husband who acts nothing like he should! And there are kids here! Four of them! How the hell did that happen?!”

“I don't know... But it's pretty obvious this is not our world and these are not our lives. Apparently Rafael and I aren't married. We live in some sort of... half-cocked relationship and we have done so for decades! At least it seems we are engaged, but he took his sweet time asking this world's version of me. And he keeps calling me 'Meri'. It's awful...”

“You think you have it bad?! There are FOUR children all around the hotel suite at all hours of the day, throwing toys around, yelling and running, pestering me! They think I'm their mother! They want attention and company and food and drink and... Another hour of this and I will either go crazy or throw one of them off the damn balcony.”

Mirka sounds deathly serious on the other end of the line, but despite their situation and the obvious threat to her words, Francisca can't help but chuckle. It is the only sane reaction she can come up with. It's all too surreal, too crazy. She isn't married, Mirka has children she has never wanted and the men in their lives are nothing like the people they love and have devoted their lives to. Maybe in appearance – but that is the only commonality. Other than that there are little redeeming features left... Her soft chuckle does not go unnoticed by the older woman and it only manages to make a dire situation even more complicated.

“Somehow I don't think that is a solution.”

“You are neither funny nor helpful!”

“I wasn't trying to be funny. There is NOTHING remotely funny about this fucked up situation.”

Francisca's equally harsh reaction manages to ground Mirka somewhat. After all they are in this together and fighting with one another about the way they are handling the situation is not going to help them. They need to work together, need to be strong through this together. After all that is what they have always done, that is how their friendship has worked all these years. What they need is to be pragmatic... and to look forward. So Mirka forces herself to take a deep calming breath... and do just that.

“I'm well aware of that. So... What then?! What do we do now?!”

“I have no idea. We have to find a way back home! I want my husband back, as I am sure, do you.”

“Of course! This world's Roger has about as much spine and gumption as a cooked spaghetti. And these kids... They are loud and demanding and obnoxious and I can't remember their damn names! And to add insult to injury, they are twins. Two damn sets of them! How the hell did I ever let this happen?!”

Mirka is obviously very much hung up on the fact that this world's version of her has children. Francisca can understand and relate though. She is just as confused and obsessed with the fact that she is nobody's wife in this reality... It's all wrong and that is just another, very good reason for them to find a way back to where they belong as soon as humanly possible. She tries to assure the older woman, but Mirka already is a step ahead of her it seems – focusing on the problem at hand.

“It wasn't you, Mirka. It was... some other version of you. It's the same for me. Obviously this world's versions of us have a soft spot for tender guys... Good heavens...”

“All the complaining in the world is not going to help us! We need to come up with a plan!”

“First of all we need to find out what happened. Though I do have a certain suspicion. Apparently there was a blackout yesterday. The whole of Queens was affected by it, including the tournament grounds and the player hotels. I have no idea how any of it is possible, but I think somehow this event coincided with the same thing happening in our... world or reality or version of life or whatever you want to call it, and we were sent here.”

There is a long silence on the other end of the line and Francisca can only assume Mirka is thinking about what she has just told her, trying to make sense of it. When she finally does respond to it, her reaction is guarded. Francisca can wholeheartedly sympathize. This is too bizarre to actually make sense of any of it easily. But they try. What else can they do?

“Are you trying to tell me, that whoever these two decals of the men we are married to and love and cherish in... in our world are in a relationship with here, are now in our place back at our home?!”

“I don't know. I guess so. Apparently they are the same people. They are you and me... just different. Way, way different from everything I have experienced so far. Softer. Gentler. Weaker...”

“Yeah, just like Rafael's and Roger's counterparts... I mean they PLAY the sport. How ridiculous is that. Roger is 39 years old! Your husband turned 33 this year... All four of us have better things to do with our time than to travel halfway across the world ten months out of the year to go from one over prized hotel to the next and watch our spouses sweat in the sun or get dusted in clay and come back with grass stains on their clothes on a daily basis... This whole thing is utterly ridiculous! And don't get me started on the damn rugrats...”

Mirka points out the very important and monumental fact that – for reasons Francisca still cannot fathom – tennis is very much a part of all their lives in this world. It's not like it is that much different in their lives, but to them it is more of a business venture than an actual part of their daily life. Here everything is different. But as important as that particular fact is, Mirka manages to turn back to the children instead of focusing on the very important question what has the men they are with make decisions neither of them can make sense of. It's important to focus on the big picture here and Francisca tries to get Mirka to do just that.

“Stop complaining damn it. At least you have a husband and family to show for. As I said - Rafael and I aren't even married in this reality! And apparently my counterpart from this world took her engagement gift with her when we... switched and now he keeps pestering me about it... This is a nightmare!”

“Didn't you just say complaining won't help us?”

“I did... and it won't.”

“So how do we get back?”

“I have no idea. Do more research? Talk to somebody who can explain it?”

“Research? Experts? That sounds... time consuming. I want to go home NOW.”

Mirka sounds petulant for the first time since they have started this conversation and Francisca feels her own composure starting to slip away. She feels exactly the same way as the older woman. All she wants is to go home, to a world she can make sense of and to a husband that she loves and adores instead of a fiance she can barely tolerate with his constant hovering and tendency to be overprotective around her... But she can't have that and neither can Mirka, because they simply do not know how. And as hard as that is to understand, it's a fact they need to accept... at least for the time being.

“I don't think that's possible...”

“You are joking. Please tell me you are joking?”

“No. No jokes.”

“So what now? I mean right now?”

Francisca actually finds herself feeling a little flattered at the fact that Mirka asks both her input and advice. Usually the older woman is the one calling the shots. But this situation is unique and very much difficult for the both of them and right now Francisca is dealing with it better. She has no master plan though, no solution that will immediately help them. What she does have is common sense though and common sense tells her that they have to be careful and not draw any more attention and suspicion towards themselves. Mirka doesn't like the idea of course, but she doesn't deny it's logic either. After all this is the most important thing to achieve right now... and from there on out they can plan all the rest – together.

“Right now... we adjust and try to fit in without causing any new suspicions. We... play along. We play pretend.”

“Oh dear god...”


	5. Chapter 5

Rafa knows he is supposed to get ready and be on his way for a practice session at the tournament grounds. But he can't bring himself to get changed or gather everything he needs for the hour long practice. Actually he can't do as much as get into a shower or even off the chair at the table he is still sitting at. He has been here since Meri has suggested he have some breakfast and has asked his phone of him. Whatever his fiance has talked about with Roger, the phone call has been a rather long one... and one Meri has conducted in the privacy of the adjacent room without any chance for Rafa to find out what it is about.

When she had finally reemerged from the bedroom, Meri had been fully dressed and ready to go. She was dressed way too fancy for accompanying him to the tournament site, dark pants, light blouse and her hair in a braid, but as it turned out she had no intention of coming with him. She had returned his phone to him with a strained smile on her face, had taken one of the key cards to the room and had told him she would be out for the majority of the day and for him to do his thing. She had promised they would see each other tonight and this time she would join the team and family for dinner.

Rafa had never even gotten the chance to ask her any questions or articulate his surprise about her decision. It isn't like Meri is dependent on him or is supposed to follow him around all day. She can do as she pleases. But usually she would come with him. After all she is a vital part of his support team, a part of his home away from home... But today she doesn't want that and even though Rafa respects her decision and her need for space and independence... he still feels more than just a little uncomfortable about it all.

He knows he shouldn't do this, should respect his fiance's privacy, but then again Meri has asked something of him, Rafa never would have expected in a million years. Why on earth has she felt the need to talk to Roger? And why won't she tell him about the contents of the conversation? As unfair as it is, there is one other person he can ask and is bound to get a useful answer from... His fiance is acting strange and Rafa wants a chance to find out why that is... Fighting down the thought of the moral implications, he hits redial on his phone... Roger answers almost immediately and he sounds slightly anxious... at least until Rafa reveals himself as the one who has called the Swiss this time. 

“Rogi, it's Rafa...”

“Oh... Hi... I thought it... it would be your fiance again. She called, you know?”

“I know. She asked for my phone and told me she wanted to speak to you. But she didn't tell me... What did she talk to you about?”

Asking the question, saying the words out loud, Rafa still very much feels he is doing something entirely wrong. But curiosity wins over morality. He needs to know, especially because he fears his fiance is in some way suspicious of him and Roger... and that is the whole reason why she has been so angry with him from time to time since yesterday, without ever telling him her reasons why. As it turns out, his question is bound to stay unanswered, because Roger can be of no help to him. The second the older man sighs – softly but audibly – at the other end of the line, Rafa knows he will not get the answers he is looking for.

“That's just it. Nothing. All she wanted was a chance to talk to Mirka.”

“What did she say?”

“I don't know. She was in the bedroom when they talked... I couldn't listen in.”

It is a little of a relief to hear, that Roger is just as curious about the conversation between the two women as Rafa is... and obviously equally as frustrated that he hasn't had any chance to find out what they have talked about. Roger would never disrespect his wife, just as much as Rafa doesn't want to do the same thing with Meri. But it doesn't change the fact that they are both anxious and worried and just a little but suspicious. Ignorance definitely is no bliss, not in this case. But there is only so much they can do about it...

“Meri went away too... I don't like this...”

“Do... do you think they are suspicious? Of us?”

Rafa shrugs his shoulders before realizing Roger can't see his reaction. It's involuntary and it is hard to put his feelings into words. Ever since last night he has a very hard time making sense of his fiance's actions. And her talking to Mirka in secret and leaving the hotel without a proper explanation and in a hurry to get away from him, doesn't sit right with Rafa either. He knows he can trust Roger, he knows he can talk to the older man about almost anything... and still he has no clue how to actually voice his suspicions.

“I don't know. But Meri has been... strange since the blackout last night. Like she isn't even herself anymore... And I feel... she is angry with me. But she won't tell me why.”

“It's the same with Mirka. I mean she snapped at Leo last night and for a second there... I know it sounds idiotic, but I had the feeling she didn't know about the kids... It's almost like she had no clue she was a mother... And then she got up in the middle of the night to check something on the computer and when I found her and addressed her... she flinched.”

Rafa isn't quite sure what to make of Roger's revelations but instinct tells him to feel appeased by the fact, that Roger is dealing with the same kind of strange problems as him. But he should not be calm. He should be worried. Because if Mirka sneaks out to check stuff on the internet, his own fiance leaves him sitting at the breakfast table without a word and both women talk to one another without wanting them to know what about, it does not paint a very reassuring picture. Something neither of the two want their partners to be aware of is going on here... And Rafa – for his part – wants to get to the bottom of it.

“Where is she now, your wife?”

“She left. She said she would go out into town and be back later. She didn't even ask if we had plans or who would take care of the kids. I barely got a word in... and then she just... left.”

“It's the same with Meri. She told me she would be back tonight at the latest and for me not to worry about her. But she wouldn't tell me what her plans are...”

The bad feeling that has settled in Rafa's stomach only increases. Both women have left, both have cited the very same excuse – going into the city and returning later – and both of them have done so at almost exactly the same time. Roger seems to go through the same line of thinking and comes up with the same conclusion, voicing it out loud. Rafa however is not yet willing to accuse either of the two of anything. Even if they would meet – which would be sort of confusing and surprising – that is their decision to make. It is not like either him or Roger hold any control over the women in their lives... They simply want to understand what is going on here.

“Do... do you think they are meeting? Right now?”

“Maybe...”

At the other end of the line, Roger takes a deep breath and sighs, almost dramatically. Unlike Rafa, who still thinks of the situation as curious and strange, Roger seems to already have made up his mind about what the secrecy of their partners means. And he seems assured it is all about him and Rafa... and the fact that they share a relationship being kept secret from the two women. Rafa however tries to see something positive in all this. It has been years, but maybe – just maybe – now is the right time to finally change something about the dynamic of all of their respective relationships.

“I just don't get it... How could they be suspicious? We talked a couple of times, but... we haven't even spend much of any time together since my birthday...”

“I don't know, Rogi. But this is not good. We need to talk to them. Maybe we should tell them...”

“I can't do that, Rafa. And you know you can't either. There is more than just you and me to consider here. You are in the final stretch of your wedding preparations and Mirka and I have the kids to think about. We can't tell them...”

“I don't like to lie...”

It's a discussion – and a futile one at that – they have time and again on a regular basis. Rafa doesn't like their secrecy but he is unwilling to give up either on his relationship with Meri nor with Roger. It is a balance act and it always has him feeling slightly awkward at best. But this is the only way to make things work and so far they have been fine. But something seems to have shifted, seems to have changed... and he strongly feels they should use that fact to their advantage. It is a conclusion Rafa is very much alone with though. He can practically imagine the Swiss shake his head no at the other end of the line as he answers.

“Neither do I. But there isn't much of any choice here. We simply can't risk this. There is too much at stake, too much to lose... for both of us. But maybe we could probe a little? Ask questions? See how they react?”

“We could have dinner. The four of us?”

“I... I'm not sure...”

Sharing a meal at a non-official event – like a pre-tournament event or a player's party – is not something they have ever done before and of course Roger is reluctant to agree to it. Rafa can't really blame him. Doing this could cause more problems than it produces results. But as willing as Rafa usually is to find a common ground, right now this is what he wants – desperately. And for once he uses emotional blackmail to get Roger to comply with his wishes. It works surprisingly well.

“Please, Rogi? I don't want to do this alone.”

“Alright, okay. You talk to Meri, I talk to Mirka and we find a date, okay?”

“Okay.”

Having Roger relent and agree helps, more than the Spaniard has expected it to. Rafa feels a little more reassured now, a little more willing and able to face this day and get on with his daily routine without actually worrying about Meri all day long. But obviously that emotion doesn't transport well into his tone of voice. He still sounds slightly shaky and anxious even to his own words and of course Roger picks up on it as well, trying to reassure him once more, before they end their phone call for now.

“Rafa ... don't worry, okay? We're probably overreacting completely. It'll all blow over soon.”

“Yes. Probably.”

*#*

Unaware of the uncomfortable phone conversation going on between their respective partners, Mirka and Francisca meet each other in the lobby of their hotel. It's a strange experience, meeting up like this in a place they both know they should not be in and that they cannot explain their presence at either. But when they detect one another in the lobby, the first feeling both women deal with, is utter relief. Of course they have talked before, but actually seeing one another and having a chance for real physical contact, as they share a quick hug, is something else entirely.

Both women take a good look at one another and it is blatantly obvious that even though they both remember a different life, it is hard to maintain their usual lifestyle in this strange version of their reality. Mirka has had a hard time finding something to wear that has not felt completely foreign and downright appalling to her. She has finally decided on a dark pair of pants and an equally dark shirt. It's nothing fancy, but at least she feels comfortable enough.

Francisca has obviously faced the same kind of problem, but hasn't come up with a satisfactory solution. The dark gray pair of pants she wears are inconspicuous enough, but the cream colored blouse that goes with the ensemble has a pattern of floral motives on it... and something that looks a lot like butterflies. Mirka can't help but grin, glee and amusement shining in her eyes. It is the first time since this whole ordeal started, she actually feels about ready to laugh without having to fake it. Making a joke about it, Mirka half expects Francisca to snap at her, but the younger woman takes her teasing in stride, using the chance to complain bitterly.

“You look like you could play nanny for those kids this reality has bestowed upon me. I'm sure they like flowers and butterflies.”

“Oh, don't get me started! I combed through her entire wardrobe twice and that was the only thing I felt halfway comfortable with. And still... I mean look at me. I could go from a beach walk to a monastery visit and nobody would complain.”

“Well, at least your color pallet is normal. This world's version of me seems to have a very warped fashion sense... and she likes pink a lot... Good heavens.”

Despite the situation, despite the fact that they should be out of their minds with worry, Francisca can't help but laugh both at Mirka's words and her sardonic tone. She cannot – for the life of her – imagine the other woman in a pink ensemble. Even the thought of it seems utterly ridiculous and no amount of money or coaxing or even force in this world could get the older woman to do such a thing... at least in their world. Around here, they have to make due with what is offered to them... and adjust from there, which is something Francisca very much plans to do while spending the day with the older woman.

“How about a shopping trip, lunch and maybe a day spa and some champagne after that?”

“And who is going to pay for that?”

“Turns out my husband – or fiance for all intents and purposes in this bizarre world – is just as untidy and careless about his belongings as I remember.”

The grin spreading on Francisca's face is infectious and very much calming. It is good to know, that some things, even in this utterly bizarre reality, are still the same way as they both remember them. Like the fact that staying organized is not exactly one of Rafael's strong suits... Francisca has not exactly told her what she has done, before coming down to the lobby to meet with her, but Mirka can very well imagine. She hasn't even thought about the monetary issue of their stay here up until now but obviously the younger woman has found a solution for the problem at hand and Mirka gives her a knowing glance, stating more than asking her for confirmation.

“You swiped his credit card?”

“I'm about to be his wife. Let's just say I borrowed it.”

For just a quick second, Mirka wonders if Francisca's husband – fiance in this world – won't be suspicious at some point. She quickly banishes the thought. After all it's not her problem and the option presenting itself is far to tempting and inviting. And this has all been Francisca's idea in the first place. Mirka simply takes the advantage. After everything they have been through – and with no easy solution at hand – they can definitely both use a relaxing day out in the city to unwind and forget about their predicament, if only for a couple of hours.

“Well... I could really use some proper clothes... and a glass of wine... and a massage.”

“Let's go crazy then. It fits with the general theme.”


	6. Chapter 6

*The next day*

It is only when Rafa returns from the last evening's dinner engagement, that his fiance has actually returned to their shared hotel room, already in bed, a whole heap of shopping bags next to the bed on her side and a deeply satisfied and calm expression on her face when she sleeps. When he has left for dinner a couple of minutes to ten p.m. she still hadn't been back and he had been unable to reach her. She had told him not to worry but she had also told him she would accompany him for dinner and the painful knot in his stomach at the thought that something bad had happened to her had never quite vanished.

Finding her asleep and obviously happy with herself, as if she had done nothing to wrong him, feels both unfair and entirely selfish to Rafa. But still he doesn't have it in his heart to wake and confront her. That is something that will have to wait until the next day. He quickly debates calling Roger again, asking the Swiss if his experience with Mirka has been similar, but refrains from doing so. Instead he sends Roger a quick text message – actually urging him not to call back in order not to wake Meri – and asks him when Mirka has returned back to their room.

Roger's answer provides exactly what Rafa has both expected and dreaded... The other woman is only back for a little while as well, only cementing both his and Roger's suspicion that they have spent this whole day together. Yet again the urge to ask Meri about it, confront her with her strange behavior arises and yet again Rafa fights it down. He has a match to play tomorrow. He needs to sleep, not to fight with his fiance about something he cannot make sense of... They can talk about this tomorrow.

Of course Rafa does not sleep well. He is too worked up, too many thoughts and emotions swirling through his mind and the fact that Meri sleeps right next to him – seemingly peaceful and without a care in the world – is not exactly helping. When he does eventually fall asleep, he has the same nightmare of the dark corridor and Meri's desperate voice calling out to him. She sounds scared again and so much more like the woman he knows and loves than the actual person he has dealt with these last couple of days, it is almost... calming to dream of her again. His nightmare ends in the very same way as the previous one, with Meri screaming and him waking from it and yet again, the bed next to him is empty, when he opens his eyes.

There is water running in the bathroom, which means his fiance is taking a shower. A look to the watch on the nightstand tells him he is late. He has an eleven o' clock practice session scheduled and it is already ten past ten. That does not leave him with a lot of time and Meri taking her sweet time in the bathroom does not make matters any easier. He probably wouldn't be as worked up about the whole matter, weren't he already irritated with her behavior from last night... But he is in fact irritated – as well as sleep deprived and hungry – and when his fiance finally returns to the bedroom, one towel wrapped about her, the other covering her hair, the argument that was bound to happen between them... pretty much ensues right away as soon as Rafa questions her about her whereabouts.

“You were back late last night...”

“I was.”

“It was not what you told me. You agreed to meet me and the team and family for dinner.”

“I never agreed to anything.”

Rafa tries his hardest to stay calm through the conversation they are having, but his fiance makes that unbelievably difficult for him. She doesn't even seem to care that her behavior has hurt him and that she has gone against what she had not only told him but had promised him to do. She is focused on her clothes in the wardrobe, focused on the towel she pulls off her hair, focused on pretty much anything but him and with her blatant disinterest, his mood quickly swings from forcibly patient to simply irritated and disappointed in her. Having reached that point, trying to keep their conversation civil is no longer a main concern to him. He is angry with her, and he wants Meri to know that, wants and needs her to understand that despite the fact that he values and respects her privacy and independence, she simply cannot treat him like a piece of baggage she only comes to deal with when she feels like it.

“No, you didn't agree. You promised. That were your exact words. 'We'll all have dinner together tonight – promise' You said that to me. You said you would be back in the early evening in time for dinner!”

“I know what I said! What the hell are you so worked up about anyway?! I simply lost track of time...”

Her excuse is a meek one at best and from the sound of it she doesn't put any effort in it to even make her words sound convincing. Instead of even trying to be sympathetic and understanding of the fact that she has gone against the plans they have made together, she accuses him of overreacting. Maybe she is right, maybe there isn't as much to it as he does think of it. But Meri has been strange around him for days now and that wears him down in a way that makes it hard to be calm and composed around her. But Rafa tries, tries to get back to a more productive conversation, tries to get answers. It doesn't work out.

“What have you been doing all day?!”

“This and that. Having fun...”

“That's not vague at all.”

“I was out in the city having a good time! Since when is that a crime? Or have I missed something and suddenly owe an explanation to you, whenever I spend time apart from you?!”

Rafa is being condescending – both in gesture and tone – and Francisca can't help it, she retaliates. But the expected reaction – of him pulling back, retreating and telling her he hasn't meant to be so harsh never happens. Instead the accusation drips off him like water off a smooth surface. Francisca actually finds herself feeling safe and reassured with him like this. At least this way – angry and determined to get a proper answer from her – he feels a lot more like the man she knows. Of course she hates to fight with him – any version of him – but his determination and fierce protection of his own interests reminds her of her real husband in a way that is almost soothing.

“You spent an entire day in the city? All by yourself?”

“I wasn't all by myself.”

Unbeknownst to either couple, they are each having the very same heated discussion – or almost the same one with only a nuance of difference to the words used and arguments made – with only a couple of floors in between them. Roger has confronted Mirka about her behavior and has asked about her whereabouts just the same as Rafa has done and just like Francisca, his wife is equally as unwilling to reveal the truth to him. But just like the Spanish woman, Mirka has slipped up, telling her husband she hasn't been alone the entire last day and both men realize – or more so assume – what that means. They put two and two together and draw the conclusion that the two women have spent the day with one another. And just as Rafa a couple floors down, Roger is equally as surprised and confused by that fact.

“Francisca... You spent the day with Rafa's fiance... Why would you do that? Spend a whole day with her? And what did you talk about?”

“We are both player's wives... or will be in a little while. We have things in common.”

“Like what?”

“A lot of things. Why does it matter?!”

It is in fact a very good question, because logically there is nothing wrong with the two women spending time together. It's odd and surprising, but it is definitely not wrong. There are the aggravating circumstances that are the actual problem though. All those things Mirka should know but seems unaware of, the way she acts around him and around the kids, her seeming disinterest in her family and even a couple of oddities in the nuances of both her features and gestures. It all adds to Roger's suspicion and his wife's reluctance to simply be truthful with him only makes matters worse.

“Because you have never met and spent time with one another like this before!”

“And now we have. First time for everything.”

“What did you do?”

“Shopping, lunch and dinner, a spa treatment. Girl stuff.”

“And during all that time... you talked about what exactly?”

“None of your business.”

Mirka actually telling him off and downright refusing to share what she has done in those hours spent with the Spanish woman, causes a cold hard knot to form in his stomach. It only confirms the bleak assumption Rafa has made earlier today, believing the two women – who don't usually spend any time together – have met to talk about them and the relationship they share in secret. But if that is indeed the case, it would be very much Roger's business and concern... After all this is all about his relationships... and hers. But Mirka simply does not tell him he has been found out, does not confront him with the secret he and Rafa keep... So Roger decides to do it for her, hoping and praying nothing will come of it. And he turns out to be lucky... and decides to leave the matter be for now. It seems the best decision possible for now.

“Is there... Do you... There is something going on, yes? Something I should know about?”

“No. Look, as strange as this might seem to you, there is nothing sinister going on. I had a nice girl's day out and I enjoyed it. That is the end of the story. Can you accept that?”

“Yes... Yes, I can.”

*#*

Just like Roger and Mirka, Rafa and Francisca have come to a close with their argument when the Spanish woman has asked pretty much the same thing of Rafa as Mirka has asked of Roger – for them to stop their bickering and accept one another's decision making. Of course the atmosphere between them is still somewhat tense but at least for now they have stopped fighting with one another. They are however each keeping to themselves, even though they are in the same room. But it works... at least until about 15 minutes to eleven a.m. when Rafa comes to talk to Francisca again, stating something she is obviously supposed to know the meaning of. But she doesn't... and she asks.

“The car will be here in about ten minutes.”

“What car?”

“To take us to the tournament grounds of course. It's a match day today.”

Rafa sounds both irritated and impatient and – after just having managed to calm him down – Francisca could hit herself for her ignorance. In her reality Rafa might no longer play the sport, but that doesn't mean she is no longer aware of how tournaments work out. It is usually one day of a match being played with a day off in between... Rafa's day off has been yesterday. Of course he is playing again today and obviously she is expected to come along.

But – unaware of today's agenda – she has made other plans already, plans to spend time with the one person in this world who actually knows who she is and can relate to her plight. She and Mirka have plans for the afternoon and evening, plans Francisca is not willing to give up on. Rafa cannot truly expect her to spend a whole day at the tournament grounds waiting on him, can he? After all there's nothing she can do to help him. He is the one to play the match. And quite frankly – after their heated argument – she feels no desire to be anywhere near him for the whole of the day. So she forces a smile... and tells him to go on his own.

“Oh. Yes, of course. Totally slipped my mind. Well... good luck.”

“Good luck?!”

“Isn't luck a factor? Have a successful outcome then.”

She knows it isn't what she says, but the implication of her words, that manages to anger Rafa yet again. He needs a moment but quickly realizes what she is meaning to tell him without actually using the words. He is deeply disappointed, his tone of voice betrays that all too clearly. Admittedly she has not checked her attendance rate to any of the previous tournaments Rafa has played in this reality, but her even being here – with their home half a world away – speaks volumes of how things usually are set up. But she is not the woman Rafa knows and she is not willing to compromise either her free time nor her independence to sit around all day watching him – especially after the fight they have only just come down from less than half an hour ago.

She does however try to convince him of a different approach, one that is more... pleasing and way closer to what she is used to in her reality. Because in her reality there is no sports career standing in the way of her relationship with her husband. In her reality they have all the time in the world to spend with one another... in whichever damn well way they please at any particular time of the day. It is a far more appealing option, but of course this man who looks so much like her husband, acts nothing like him when it comes to deciding whether to put her or his career first and Francisca can't help but be angry at him for it. This is not the way she is used to be treated.

“You are not coming...”

“What would it matter if I'm there or not? I thought about dinner and maybe a Broadway show. We could do that.”

“I have a match to play!”

“You could withdraw from that. It's just sport after all, just one match. Wouldn't you say your relationship is more important?”

It is a rhetorical question really, one they both know the answer to. Unfortunately the answer is a completely different one for each of them. While Francisca deeply believes in what she has just told Rafa and the two of them have lived their lives exactly like this in the reality she comes from, with their relationship always the center of both their attentions, it is different here. In this world Rafa is used to a partner in his life, who is very much used to and has accepted coming second when she is measured against his career. Of course her demand now makes no sense to him. But true to his nature that has shone through time and time again, he isn't angry with her, but confused and hurt by her dismissive behavior instead.

“You have NEVER complained about any of this before.”

“Maybe I am not as easily sated as before.”

“First yesterday and now this... I... I simply don't understand... What has changed?!”

She could tell him – now is the chance to tell Rafa the truth and maybe even enlist his help. Because she is sure he wants to get rid of this version of the woman he loves and is about to marry in a couple weeks time just as much as she wants to be back with the fiercely self-assured, determined, strong man she knows and loves. But she is equally as aware of the fact, that he will never believe her. He will call her insane at best and will insist on her seeing a doctor in a worst case scenario. And who knows what might happen then. Maybe something about her is entirely different from the norm when it comes to anatomy or body chemistry in this world. It's a risk Francisca is simply not willing to take. So she lies... and doesn't even bat an eye while doing so.

“Nothing. It's nothing. I just... I don't feel like it. Is that okay?”

It is not okay, she can see it in the expression on his face, the disappointment shining in his eyes. But the soft, apologetic smile she plasters on her face as well as her soft, gentle, almost careful tone of voice seem to be enough to dissuade him from his anger for now. Rafa nods, though it doesn't take a genius to realize he is nowhere near satisfied or happy with her decision. But he accepts it... and proceeds to leave the hotel room without another word, not even one of goodbye.

*#*

As has been pointed out to him by both his sister and his coach, Rafa has been in a funky mood ever since arriving at the car in front of the hotel taking them to the tournament grounds. He has also repeatedly been asked about the whereabouts of his fiance and has grumpily revealed that she hasn't felt like joining the team and family effort to support him today. No further questions about Meri had been asked from that point on, but his team and family had made an effort to try and cheer him up. It hasn't really worked.

He is still very much reeling from the fact that the woman he is about to marry in four weeks time, has simply abandoned him here today, doing her own thing. Of course she has every right to that and it is her prerogative to change her mind, but it is simply not something he has ever expected her to do. She comes to these tournaments with him voluntarily, fully willing and alert of the fact that her support is both wanted and appreciated. Of course it isn't like she is forced to drop everything for him, stop her life and be his supporter and nothing else. But leaving for a dinner and a show on the evening of one of his matches... it's simply wrong and it is unparalleled in the history of their relationship.

Maybe it is the proximity to the wedding that makes her feel like she should engage in her independence and make the most of their foreign stays. But they have been engaged for over a year now and something like this has never once happened before. After all it's not like there is any force. Meri wants to be his wife, she wants to get married... But ever since two days ago something has shifted so drastically in her behavior, Rafa still fears for her health... and fears for his own secrets he has kept from her to have come to light and her wanting to punish him for that even more.

Right now Rafa is back in the catacombs of the main stadium yet again, waiting for Roger – who plays the match right before him – to finish and for him to get a chance to get underway with tonight's match. He has been following the live-footage from the court for the majority of the time and even though Roger is doing well and is underway to a straight sets victory, there is little enthusiasm to his display out there on the court. It is only way into the second set, that Rafa becomes aware of one fact that has been blatantly obvious the entire time, but that has somehow managed to slip his mind up until now. Mirka isn't in Roger's player's box...

There is a brief delay after Roger's match ends, and Rafa's doesn't start due to a short, but rather heavy bout of a late evening thunderstorm in the hot and humid conditions, that gives Rafa a chance to actually talk to Roger as they meet up in the locker room with the Swiss on his way to the shower and his post match press conference. They keep to polite chitchat, sharing a greeting and Roger appreciating Rafa's congratulations for the match he has just won. But they don't stay on those easy topics for long. Maybe they should, maybe Rafa shouldn't be prying, but he is simply too curious not to.

“Where is your wife?”

“Out to dinner.”

“But...”

Rafa never finishes his interjection, which is actually a good thing because other than that first word of protest, of disbelief, he has no idea what to say. It's disconcerting, yet strangely calming to realize Roger seems to have the same problems in his relationship as Rafa does, and for both of them those strange changes in both their partner's behavior have come to them completely unprepared. But it is – at the same time – only yet another clue as to the fact, that the two women share something with one another, their respective partners are not to know about... Roger seems distraught at the fact that his wife has abandoned him as a supporter just as Meri has done for the Spaniard... And in Roger's case his wife hasn't even been entirely honest with him, simply telling him she doesn't want to join him, but lying to him to avoid further conflict instead.

“I know, Rafa. I know. She said she wasn't feeling well. But when I called the room before the match, the nanny told me Mirka had gone out, supposedly for dinner.”

“I think I know who she is with...”

The realization hits hard, but given their time spent together on the previous day and both women being out to dinner at the very same time tonight, there is only so much of a coincidence anyone can believe in. They are spending time together yet again, that is the only logical explanation. Roger needs a moment to follow Rafa's line of thinking – after all he cannot yet be aware of the fact that Rafa himself is missing a supporter on his team – but seems to draw the obvious conclusion quite easily. He sighs softly, a reaction Rafa can wholeheartedly relate to. This whole thing is as difficult as it is frustrating.

“Meri too?”

“Yes.”

Roger keeps looking at him in silence for a very long moment after the revelation of what is definitely still news to the Swiss. A whole array of emotions is playing on the older man's face – disbelief, surprise, disappointment, anger and finally determination. It is that last emotion that stays fixed as a permanent feature and finally Roger asks something of the Spaniard, Rafa has not expected. They have talked about this before, but haven't exactly come up with any definitive plans yet. It seems, plans have just been made and Rafa is sure that is definitely a good thing. At least this way results will hopefully come to pass.

“How about dinner tomorrow, the four of us?”

“Have you asked her yet?”

“No. And I won't. I will TELL her. You were right. Something is wrong and we need to get to the bottom of this. No more waiting.”


	7. Chapter 7

Roger waits to confront Mirka with his decision until the next morning at breakfast with the children. This way he hopes for her not to start yet another argument, because despite the fact that she has seemed uncomfortable around the children these last couple of days, he has no doubt that whatsoever that she will be careful with any protest or argument as long as the kids are around. He doesn't even ask her about her dinner or about the fact that she has lied to him. Because then there will definitely be a vicious argument ensuing between them. She doesn't like to be questioned about her whereabouts and decisions, Roger doesn't like to be lied to and excluded from her life. It's the perfect match-up for a fight...

She is last to join the family this morning but Mirka seems well rested and content when she joins them at the table, greeting all of them individually with a smile... and not mixing up the kid's names for the first time in two days. She helps Leo with the spread of Nutella on his toast and listens to the girls telling her about their late afternoon yesterday. She seems in a good mood and Roger decides to use this as the chance it presents itself as.

“I made dinner reservations for tonight, at an Asian restaurant on the Upper West Side near Central Park.”

“Sounds nice. The six of us?”

“No. The four of us.”

Mirka admittedly is a little confused by the statement but quickly recovers. Roger has just told her there are dinner plans and dinner means it will be early to late evening. This is probably about the children – which she still has a hard time to think of as a part of their every day life, even with them sitting at the table with them like this. She lowers her voice not wanting to risk some sort of temper tantrum, when they realize they will – at least in part – be excluded from their parents' plans tonight.

“Did you pick a late time? Do you want to leave the boys here?”

“We won't be taking any of the children to dinner with us. I invited Rafa and Meri to come along.”

“But... you said...”

Mirka manages a barely coherent reaction, but Roger has managed to take her completely by surprise. An invitation extended to Rafael and Francisca is the very last thing she has expected. And it does not sit right with her. Things between her and Roger are a little tense at the moment, which makes these dinner plans confusing enough already. But from everything Francisca has told her, she and Rafa have been fighting and have an equally as problematic standing at the moment as well. The four of them at the same table with the way they feel about one another at the moment and with the secrets lingering... there is bound to be disaster. But Roger is very much insistent.

“I know what I said. But you have formed a friendship with Rafa's fiance and him and me we have shared a very long, very respectful and sometimes very turbulent relationship. I thought having dinner together would be a good idea.”

“Are you sure that is the only reason for it?”

“What other reason would there be?”

Roger gives her a very pointed look and for the briefest of seconds Mirka debates actually telling her... pretend husband the truth. But of course she can't do that. He would either question her sanity or laugh at her, but he definitely will not believe her. She can do this and so can her Spanish friend. All they need to do is plan properly and get their stories straight, because their partners are bound to ask them about the strange behavior of the last few days. Mirka forces a smile on her lips now and shakes her head no.

“I... I'm just being silly. It's a great idea. I'm looking forward to it.”

“Wonderful. We will meet in the lobby at eight thirty.”

Mirka has excused herself from the breakfast table a couple of minutes after being confronted with Roger's decision and it is only then, that she realizes her opinion or input has never even been asked. Roger has made a decision and she has to live with it. It's almost nice, because it's familiar... Headstrong and decisive are two of the adjectives she attributes to the husband she has been forced to leave behind in her reality. But in this world Roger acting like this comes as a surprise to her. And it doesn't sit right with her. She needs to talk to the one confidante she has and can trust. She needs to talk to Francisca.

By now they are both the owners of a disposable phone with a prepaid amount of money on it and this way they can get into contact with one another without actually needing either of their husband's – or fiance's – help or permission. All they have to do is be careful and make sure they are not listened in on when they call one another. Such an occasion has happened right now and Mirka is glad for the chance to confide in somebody she can trust. When there is a pick up at the other end of the line, Mirka doesn't even bother with pleasantries – after all the only ones knowing about their respective phones are her and Francisca.

“I assume your husband-to-be presented you with a fait accompli as well?”

“He did. And he was quite forceful doing so. It was almost nice... Reminded me of home a little.”

Weren't the circumstances so grave, it would almost be funny to realize both she and Francisca have felt the same way about their partners being so much like the men they actually know and are married to in their reality. But they have a strategy to plan, have to find a way to manage this dinner tonight without slipping up or revealing any truths that should better stay secret. However Francisca is not nearly as concerned about the whole thing as Mirka is and the older woman tries to convince her to take this serious.

“Glad to hear you can take something positive away from it all.”

“It's just dinner, Mirka.”

“Dinner with two men we do not really know and who are suspicious of us to say the least. What the hell do we do?! They know something is wrong!”

“Well... there is always one solution...”

There is a cheekiness to Francisca's tone of voice that does not sit right with the older woman. Mirka lets the words pass through her mind once more and upon closer inspection, she finally realizes what the younger woman is referring to. She would never call herself a prude or close minded or old fashioned but the implication of what Francisca is suggesting feels utterly wrong. Her suggestion is to use sex as a bargaining chip, as a way to escape their somewhat complicated situation. And that is just plain wrong. The men they are confronted with in this world may look like their partners, but they are not them. Somehow that little fact seems to have slipped the younger woman's mind.

“Ugh... That is just wrong! It's cheating.”

“Well, I don't think Rafael and Roger in our reality have the same kind of reservations with our counterparts... Or these two with each other in this world for that matter...”

“Come again?!”

Francisca manages to confuse her completely, and this time Mirka has no clue as to what the younger woman is referring to. Obviously Francisca is aware of something that Mirka has yet to detect, something pertaining to the two men looking like their husbands but neither acting like them nor actually being them. And – as Francisca points out – there is more to it than Mirka ever could have imagined. Because in this reality, it seems, their husbands are a lot more than just friends and now that this fact is pointed out to her a lot of things start falling into place, suddenly making a lot more sense.

“They have an affair, Mirka. And our counterparts... I don't think they are aware. Though I have no idea how that is even possible. It's blatantly obvious.”

“You think... Do you mean to tell me all of this suspicion... it has nothing to do with us?”

“I'm pretty damn sure of it. They aren't wary of us, but of what we – supposedly – know.”

It makes sense, Mirka has to admit that. Their phone call, them spending time with one another – there has been a lot of scrutiny on that from the two men and not all of it can be attributed to the fact that they don't usually spend any time together or are even that close. But that is their decision, their private lives and from the way both Roger and Rafael have been acting, they tend to respect their partner's decisions and privacy otherwise... However Mirka is unwilling to completely disregard the option, that the two men are suspicious about their strange behavior of late as well. That would be downright careless.

“It's probably a little of both...”

“As I said – we have a solution at hand... quite literally.”

“Stop talking about this, damn it. It's not going to work anyway. I mean those two are so... tender... What makes you think they will ever allow us to... fool and distract them like that? Especially if they feel we have distanced ourselves emotionally?”

“They are guys. Any man in any reality will always allow for sex to distract him.”

There is no argument or counter Mirka has at the ready for that. Because Francisca is right. No guy in any reality would ever refuse to have sex, especially with the woman they have chosen to spend their lives with. And most of the time sex does help to appease and make things better, especially in a bad situation. And still, this is not something she wants to do. Maybe Francisca is right and their husbands back in their world are not considering their choices this closely. But Mirka knows the Roger of this world is not the man she is married to. And she refuses to cheat on her husband. For her that is the end of that discussion.

“No argument there, I guess... But – please – let's leave that as a last resort, okay? Let's just have that dinner and see what comes of it.”

*#*

The Asian restaurant Roger has mentioned turns out to be a Japanese one and Francisca strongly suspects this has been Rafa's suggestion. Her mind has repeatedly told her not to overdo things when it comes to her wardrobe, because that may only raise new suspicions. But every last fiber of her being has screamed at her to use the opportunity presenting itself and really dress up for this one. It is the Upper West Side after all and in her mind there is no such thing as overdressed, not in this part of the city.

When they meet in the lobby with the Swiss couple, it turns out Mirka has obviously done the same kind of thinking and they have both opted for cocktail dresses that probably reveal more than they hide away. These dresses are new, have been bought on their shopping trip two days ago and while Mirka has opted for simple but elegant black, Francisca has chosen a deep red dress that goes beautifully with her complexion. Judging from the way their respective partners look at the both of them, they have made the right choice.

Greetings and compliments are exchanged and so far the evening has started off well. The drive through the city to the restaurant is a little stuffy and tense, with Rafa and Roger keeping most of the conversation between them and most of it being about the tournament at hand. This has been the plan though. The two women have agreed, that the less they include themselves in the conversation, the better their chances of not saying anything they will regret later. Hopefully their silence will be enough of a clue for the two men not to bother them... But that is wishful thinking.

It takes until their waiter has escorted them to their table, has handed out the menus and has taken their drink orders when the inevitable happens and the conversation veers off from chitchat and talk about tennis and the tournament to what Francisca and Mirka have been up to these last couple of days. It is cleverly enacted, because it is not Rafa asking Francisca or Roger asking Mirka. Instead of keeping to the familiarity of their domestic partners, they switch things up and it is Roger, who asks Francisca about her intentions of the phone call two days ago.

“Why did you want to speak to my wife two days ago? I mean you haven't had contact before...”

“Of course we have. We have spoken before...”

“Yeah, by chance. But never like this.”

Francisca exchanges a quick look with Mirka and the older woman nods to her ever so softly. This has been their signal and of course they have come up with a game plan to handle these kinds of questions. They have a story at the ready, one Francisca doesn't feel very confident about. But Mirka has assured her this is going to work and she takes over now – all confidence and determination – telling her husband what he wants to know and lying to him in the process without so much as a blink or a shade of pink appearing on her cheeks.

“We spoke about wedding plans before and I had suggested a vintage clothing store here in New York. Francisca remembered that and she called to ask me about it. That's where we went and afterwards we had a meal together. It was... nice and we decided on a repeat.”

“Then why make such a mystery out of it?”

“It's wedding plans. They are the bride's responsibility, are they not?”

Mirka smiles, Francisca falls in with a soft chuckle and quite obviously they manage to be completely inconspicuous and innocent in their display of – very much fake – emotions. The Spanish woman can't help but feel a certain amount of glee at Rafa's reaction especially. He looks uncomfortable and downright embarrassed now that the – supposed – revelation is out of the bag. When he clears his throat, he never quite manages to get rid of the slight undertone of awkwardness still clinging to his voice.

“And that's all there is to it?”

“That's all there is to it.”

“I feel silly now...”

Rafa admitting to his fault in an almost timid tone of voice and without actually looking at her, keeping his eyes focused on the plate in front of him - like he has suddenly detected something of interest there - is both endearing and infuriating at the same time. It's a cute reaction, and at the same time it is so far from anything, the man Francisca knows, loves and is married to, would ever do. Admitting fault is not in Rafael's nature... It is in the nature of this man though. She forces herself to focus on the cute aspect of it all. After all she and Mirka have finally managed to draw suspicion away from themselves. She does not need to restart the process by snapping at Rafa now. Francisca smiles, her voice soft and forgiving. It takes a considerable effort.

“It's okay. I'm sorry we tried to shroud this in mystery. But it resulted in this dinner invitation and a chance to spend some time together for the four of us. That's a good thing, isn't it?”

“Yes, yes it is.”

It turns into a nice dinner from there on out. The drinks are good, the food is even better and they manage to talk mostly about past events that have been the same in this reality as well as in the one the two women are coming from. They leave it to the men to start any new topic, only interjecting when they can be sure not to make a mistake. There is only one small slip-up from Mirka when she accidentally calls Charlene 'Marlene', mixing up both the girls' names. But she reacts quickly when Roger frowns at her, coughs and tries again, getting it right the second time around.

It is late when they decide to let the evening come to a close and as little as either of the two women have expected it, they have actually had a good time tonight. While their respective partners split the bill and ask the waiter to organize them a cab back to the hotel, Mirka and Francisca excuse themselves for a quick trip to the bathroom. Neither of them really has to go, but it is as good a chance as any to talk about the way this evening has proceeded. They are both very much content with the outcome. It has worked out a lot better than initially expected and it seems both Rafa's and Roger's suspicions are dispersed for now.

“I think that went well...”

“It did, didn't it? We can concentrate on a way home now.”

“Or not...”

The words slip past Mirka's lips before she has a chance to stop herself or really think them through. Francisca is staring at her in response. It is probably the wine she has had speaking and the fact that this evening she has dreaded has turned into such a success. But right now she feels content with the life presenting itself to her here. And it's not like she plans to stay. She does however have a contingency plan in mind and that is exactly what she tells Francisca now. After all they cannot be sure about their future. They do need to plan for every outcome.

“What do you mean, 'or not'?! You were complaining about everything from your wardrobe to your husband to the 'rugrats' just a day ago!”

“I don't mean to say I don't WANT to go home. I'm just not sure we can. Maybe it would be better to concentrate on what we have instead of using all our time and energy to achieve something that is most definitely impossible. We could make a life here...”

“This is not the life I want to live.”

Mirka nods at that. She wholeheartedly understands Francisca's sentiment. This life here is not the one she wants either, but they are both very much aware of the fact that they have no clue how to get back to their own world. This is a fluke, some bout of science fiction and they are neither equipped nor prepared to change things back. The one thing they can do is make the best of the situation at hand.

“Then we change it. I mean look at those two... Do you really think they would say no to anything we want?”

“No. Probably not...”

“And now they trust us... or at least they trust us a little more than before. And we do have a bargaining chip in our hands, if they decide to be... difficult.”

“The affair, you mean?”

“Yes. We can be charming or we can be manipulative. Either way, I am sure we can get what we want.”

Francisca frowns ever so softly. Obviously the older woman has put a lot of thought into this already. It's not like Mirka is wrong. Manipulating these versions of their partners is easy and getting them to comply with the knowledge of their affair is even easier. But as much as they could make their lives into whatever they want them to be, this is not the solution Francisca prefers. They do not belong here and they do not belong with the men they have to pretend to be their partners at the moment. She shakes her head, a deep longing in her voice she doesn't even try to hide.

“What I want is my husband back.”

“And if that is not possible?”

Francisca stays silent for a very long time. She has to admit she has never even thought about that possibility as of yet. She has been confident from the very start that there will be a way back home for her and Mirka. They haven't found it yet, haven't really made an effort to find one, but then again they have been preoccupied with other things. If – and that is a big if – they do not find a way back... that is something Francisca has not even allowed herself to think about as of yet. She doesn't want to now either, but Mirka is kind of forcing her hand and there is only one true answer to it all. 

“Then I will make do.”


	8. Chapter 8

Their dinner has been on Sunday and the next day – Monday – is a match day for both Roger and Rafa again. It is quarterfinals already, the tournament slowly but gradually reaching its finish line. Despite all of their achievements, both men are a little preoccupied with their next round opponents. It comes as a surprise to both Mirka and Francisca when the conversation falls on that particular topic during breakfast with their respective teams and families. There isn't any real worry, but both Rafa and Roger are aware they have a complicated task ahead of them.

Mirka and Francisca – for once – meet by chance at the player's restaurant on the tournament grounds while their respective partners are out on one of the courts for a practice session – the last one before their evening matches. They decide to share a light meal together, and of course – inevitably – their conversation falls on tonight's match schedule. It all starts with a suggestion made by the older woman that Francisca happily agrees to.

“I was hoping you would like to join me tonight. At the player's box. I mean I don't know any of the people being there. Not really... I know their counterparts, but it's not the same. I do know you. And I would be happy for the company.”

“Let's make it quid pro quo. I sit with you, you sit with me. This way I won't have to deal with my sister- and parents-in law...”

Mirka has to chuckle at the trace of desperation in the younger woman's voice. What are the children for her, are Francisca's in-laws to her: the one thing the two of them each have a hard time to deal with. But she is more than willing to share the experience of sitting through a tennis match again – something neither of them have done in years now. They actually shake hands in agreement of the decision made and Mirka can't help but grin. It seems a little childish but they are both smiling and very much happy with the outcome. Francisca's smile wavers slightly as she has to admit to a fault though.

“I haven't checked any schedules as of yet, as I'm really not that interested, but I should probably know who your husband is playing against?”

“Roger plays... what's his name. Chickadee? Chicory? That obnoxious, lanky, barely grown up Greek who has obviously never enjoyed the benefits of a haircut.”

“It's Tsitsipas, Mirka. And you should probably keep your opinion to yourself around your husband and during the match. Somehow I doubt it will be appreciated.”

Francisca is chuckling again at Mirka's rather open and honest display of dislike for the young Greek. She understands it though. In their world Stefanos Tsitsipas is a bit of a troublemaker... And even though she knows nothing about the young man in this reality, it is only natural Mirka takes an immediate dislike to him. It is not just the fact that she has rarely ever had any good experiences when it comes to the Greek. There is more to it than that and it has to do with this year's results and the way Roger feels about tonight's match. It's a surprising coincidence as Francisca has to admit. Because both their partners share the same set of emotions about tonight.

“Either way, Roger seems preoccupied. Apparently there has been a rather tough loss to the kid at the beginning of the year.”

“Funny, it's the same with Rafael. He has been a little gloomy this morning, saying it will be a tough match-up for him today.”

“I haven't bothered to check. Who is his opponent?”

“Roger's countryman. Wawrinka.”

Mirka nods softly and Francisca – who knows the older woman long and well enough – can practically see the thoughts rattling through her mind. She is thinking intensely about something and – judging from the expression on her face – it takes quite a while before she reaches a conclusion. When she does, a smile spreads on Mirka's face and Francisca is truly curious to find out what it is Mirka has come up with. At first however, her words make little to no sense to the younger woman.

“We could help.”

“We can?”

“Of course we can. This might not be our home, but we are still the same people. And I assume the changes are minimal for everyone else as well. I am a mother, your marriage hasn't taken place yet, Rafael and Roger still play tennis... but for the most part things have progressed as they should. So... I guess it is the same for everybody else.”

There is a hint of glee in Mirka's eyes and Francisca realizes what the older woman is suggesting. Just as they do back home where this whole tennis endeavor is a business venture more than anything, a predetermined outcome is usually played. And in order to achieve said outcome, they have bargaining chips at hand. There is a whole lot of little and big secrets, of options to put pressure on the players, that they can use in order to make the most of any tournament. After all – in their reality – it is all about profit. Here it is different, here it is about a chance to have their respective partners come out on top. But that doesn't mean they cannot use the same tactics and that is exactly what the Swiss woman is suggesting. And Francisca cannot deny there is a certain appeal to her idea... It is the first time since they have come here, they can actually, fully be themselves... It's too appealing a chance to pass up on.

“What are you trying to say? We use what we know about the players in our world and get them to be compliant in this one?”

“That's the idea.”

“And you really believe that will work?”

“Secrets are secrets, in this world just as much as in any other. If this whole ordeal with Rafael and Roger has shown us one thing, it is that people do almost anything to keep their secrets exactly that.”

*#*

They have split up – each of them with their own agenda to achieve that 'help' they have been talking about – agreeing to meet up again before Roger's match. While Francisca meets up with Rafa first – because that is the agreement between the couple – Mirka has a little more time and a chance to actually go in search of the intolerable Greek player who will be Roger's opponent tonight. It's a lot easier than Mirka has expected. And she is in luck as well. Because she manages to pretty much run into Tsitsipas in one of the corridors of the catacombs of the main stadium, which are – mercifully – empty when they meet.

The young Greek seems in a hurry, acknowledging her presence with a nod and a quick smile, but not actually stopping or talking to her. Mirka however is not willing to give up that easily. After all this is a perfect opportunity. They are alone, with nobody around to listen in and later accuse her of any wrongdoing. In any case it will be her word against the Greek's and she is sure she will come out on top in that argument. So she stops the kid... and she isn't even the least bit subtle doing it, when she steps into his path and confronts him with her intimate knowledge right away.

“How is your German friend?”

“Excuse me?!”

“I have been pretty clear, have I not? Is it the accent? Or the language barrier? I asked after your German friend.”

For just a brief second, Mirka feels unsure of her plan. Maybe in this world the Greek and the other young player from Germany don't have any kind of fling with one another whatsoever. After all some things are different around here, she is painfully aware of that. But there is something about the younger man's behavior – the way he crosses his arms in front of his chest, the way his face closes off and the way he nervously fidgets – that tells Mirka she is on the right track here. In the end, she decides to simply try again.

“What German friend?”

“Alexander. Or is it Sascha? I can never quite remember.”

“What are you trying to insinuate?”

“Insinuate, nothing? I'm asking how your friend is, who you like to kiss in shower stalls and hotel elevators, when you are sure nobody is watching you...”

Mirka manages to sound completely innocent stating what is a fact in her reality. She knows she is spot on, can tell it from the slightly panicked expression on the younger man's face. But the Greek catches himself quite quickly again, shaking his head and trying to look unfazed, though failing miserably at it. Mirka has hit home with her 'accusations' and from here on out she can hopefully make the young Greek understand what she wants from him... and act accordingly. For now however the kid decides to play dumb with her... and be both defiant and stubborn in the process. It's quite infuriating and tiring to be honest.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“No? Must have been a bad kiss for you to forget about it that easily again. I wonder what the press would have to say about that. I'm sure they would love to hear about this...”

“Are you trying to threaten me?!”

The kid sounds actually appalled and taken aback by the implications of what Mirka tells him and she has to hide back a chuckle. But then again this isn't her reality and this version of the Greek player doesn't know her as well as that is the case in her world. In her world he would already know what is expected of him. But around here – it seems – Mirka needs to spell things out for him. Though she feels she has been direct enough already. A display of fake innocence still shining in her eyes, she smiles softly at him, saying no to him when in truth she means to definitely say yes. This time the kid takes the bait... and eats it right up.

“Now why would I do that? I'm just thinking out loud.”

“What do you want?”

“I want you to think long and hard whether you want to risk your career for some guy who kisses so badly you don't even think it's worth remembering. Surely not something you would want to lose your reputation over. Of course nobody needs to know...”

“If?”

The young Greek is quite quick on the uptake now, though there is a fire shining in his eyes that leaves Mirka a little uncomfortable. He hasn't defied her, hasn't told her to leave him alone or to not talk to him anymore. He is listening, but somehow she doubts he understands the full severity of what is going on here. But she has gotten this far and Mirka – with her pride and determination pushing her on – is unwilling to give up on her attempt to get the younger man to play along and do as he is told. She is sure the kid understands. The one important question remaining, is if he will actually act on the incentive.

“You know what you have to do, don't you?”

“I have a certain suspicion.”

“Good. We understand each other then.”

The Greek never nods or lowers his gaze – showing any sign of either understanding or compliance. It doesn't sit right with Mirka how the kid keeps on looking directly at her, a fire in his eyes that is quite disconcerting. He is angry with her, but he doesn't act on the emotion. He never shows any signs of defeat either though. But in the end Mirka gets the answer she is looking for... at least she hopes so. She cannot be entirely sure, not until the match is played and the result is the one she wants.

“Perfectly.”

*#*

For Francisca it is pretty much the same as for her Swiss friend, even though her encounter with Rafa's quarterfinal opponent – Stan Wawrinka – happens at a later time of this day, but still very much in private. The Swiss has an afternoon practice session and has just finished up, when Francisca – who has taken a short walk around the ground before returning to the catacombs of Arthur Ashe – spots the man about to exit the practice court. She decides to walk up to him.

When she steps into his path, the Swiss is still occupied with retrieving something from one of his bags and not looking where he is going. He looks up right before bumping into her and manages to come to a halt before they actually run into one another in a tangle of limbs, an embarrassed and small smile spreading on his lips. It's a gesture Francisca mirrors, smile on her own face, though hers is cool and calculating and obviously has the desired effect. It catches the older man off guard.

“Oh sorry... Hi. I didn't mean to be rude or anything, but I didn't see you there... or expect to see you here.”

“I'm just out for a quick walk. Fresh air, moving my feet and all that. It's healthy.”

“I guess so.”

The Swiss feels uncomfortable talking to her, Francisca can tell. So far they are off to a good start. She has managed to surprise the older man, has managed to make him feel embarrassed and has already pushed him into the defensive position in this conversation they are having. And obviously her cryptic approach is making him even more uncomfortable than he has felt at the near miss of running into her already. Francisca decides to use the chance presenting itself... and moves for the final blow.

“It's important. Health. For example one should always chose carefully when it comes to an establishment where a clean environment is paramount for your health.”

“What are you getting at?”

“Just making an observation. That is a really nice tattoo you got there...”

The older man pales visibly and Francisca has to hide back a smirk. It turns out Mirka has obviously been right in her assumption that a lot of things in this world are exactly the same as they are in their own reality. And in their own reality Stan Wawrinka is dealing with a case of chronic hepatitis, contracted in the unclean environment of a tattoo parlor a couple of years ago. It is a well kept secret in their world, as it is here... And he is more than just a little shaken realizing that his secret is not as well kept and private as he might have thought. Francisca pushes on.

“Must have taken a while... Probably hasn't been a comfortable experience. All those little needle pricks... But a nice result. At least for people to look at...”

“This is none of your business. It's nobody's business but mine.”

The poor man in front of her – though she feels little empathy for him – realizes to late that his words confirm what has only been Francisca's assumption up to this point. If at all possible the color drains from his face even more and his breathing picks up a little. He is panicking, though he tries his best to hide it, but still Francisca can tell within a heartbeat and it takes a lot of effort for her not to grin at him in triumph. This has been a lot easier than she has ever expected and she uses his current state of emotional turmoil to exploit what she wants from him.

“Is it? I mean you come in contact with so many people... Officials, volunteers, fans, press, other players. You share facilities, you have people hand you things. Just imagine you have a cut somewhere – on your face from shaving when using a towel, on your hands from a blister when taking a ball... So many opportunities really, so many ways to get others into trouble...”

“I'm careful, damn it! There's barely any risk.”

“Barely? Mh... I wonder if the media will see it that way too. You could be confronted with a major shit storm there... You could even be forced out... Better not risk that...”

She smiles at him, the expression curving her lips never reaching her eyes. It is not a friendly statement of course. It is very much a threat and the Swiss picks up on that almost immediately, realizing what it is the Spanish woman is trying to do. A little bit of color returns to his cheeks as anger flares up and his eyes widen at the realization of her – less than ladylike – behavior. But this version of Wawrinka does not know her at all, does not know the length she will go to to reach the goal she has set for herself and for Rafa.

“Are you trying to blackmail me?”

“Why should I? My hus... fiance is better than you. Every last statistic reflects that. I have no doubt he will emerge victorious tonight. Do you?”

Francisca's statement leaves little doubt as to what she really means to say with her words, the threat and implication barely veiled. Defiance plays in the older man's eyes for the longest of moments... and then it vanishes, replaced by something that only increases Francisca's feeling of triumph. Defeat. He is giving up, giving up on trying to talk her down, trying to make her see reason, trying to deny the truth and hold onto a secret that is no longer his. She gets what she has come here for.

“No. No, I don't.”


	9. Chapter 9

The order of play for night session is exactly the same as two days ago, with Roger being scheduled first and Rafa second – and last – on Arthur Ashe tonight. When the two women meet again they are very much content with their effort and confident they have both achieved what they have wanted – for their respective partners, who have both been a little worried, to have an edge in a tough match-up tonight. For Roger things start out well enough. He wins the first set against the younger Greek 6:3. Next to Francisca, Mirka is actually smirking.

The expression is quickly wiped from her face when the second set ends 6:4... in favor of Tsitsipas. From there on out it's a tough and long five-set-match and in the end... Roger loses. When match point is played and the young Greek raises both arms in victory - a wide happy grin on his face - there is utter silence in Roger's player's box for the longest of moments, all of them a little stunned at the outcome. It is Mirka who finally reacts first... and she is venting her anger in a way that draws attention from everyone around her. But she cannot help it. This has not been the plan for tonight!

“He lost... How the hell did he lose this?! That shouldn't have happened! I told him...”

“Mirka, shush! People are watching!”

Francisca is quick to try and shut the older woman up before more people around them start staring at them, eyebrows raised and interest peaked at the emotional outburst Roger's wife is showing. The last thing they need right now is for somebody to pick up on the fact, that Mirka has threatened the victorious Greek in order to get the match result they have favored. Mirka seems to realize her error and quietens down immediately but there is still fire spewing from her eyes.

“That little, stubborn bastard! He didn't listen...”

“Maybe you weren't clear enough...”

“Oh, I was abundantly clear! He simply chose to ignore the warning given to him. Unbelievable... How dare he do that to us!”

The older woman's voice has risen in pitch and volume again and Francisca places a – hopefully calming – hand on her lower left arm. It has the desired effect even though the older woman is still very much angry, both at the outcome of the match and the fact that her barely veiled threat towards the young Greek has shown no signs of being swayed or even affected by. Anger doesn't help them right now though. The match is over, the result is what it is... and frankly they don't care about these men's accomplishments anyway. After all they are not theirs to fret over.

“Mirka, calm down. It's just one match.”

“A match, Roger should have won!”

“Since when are you so invested in this?”

“I am not! I couldn't care less about the loss. It's the audacity of that bratty kid that gets to me. He ignored me. Simply decided that I wouldn't stand by my word and do his thing out there on court regardless. That is both ignorant and disrespectful! I won't have that!”

Much to Francisca's expectation, Mirka doesn't really care about the match or about this reality's Roger and the disappointment he most definitely feels at the loss. What she cares about is the fact, that she feels both ridiculed and mistreated by the young Greek, who has simply chosen to ignore her attempt to intimidate him, either not believing her or not caring enough to actually allow Mirka's threats to influence his game plan out there on court tonight. But it has happened and there is little the older woman can still do about it.

“And what – exactly – do you plan to do about it? Confront him? Scold him? You threatened, he didn't bite, end of story.”

“Isn't this one YOUR husband's next opponent?”

“He will be. But only if Rafa wins his own match.”

Mirka is indeed right but she is talking about a future event that has yet to come to pass. And given how unsuccessful the older woman has been in her attempt to influence the outcome of Roger's match, Francisca doubts her talk with Stan will yield a better result. But then again it is not just about what she has done or what the Swiss will do. It is mostly about what Rafa will do out there on the court... Mirka however is fully focused on hers and Francisca's participation to get the match result she wants. And she hopes for an outcome that offers a repeat chance to talk to the young Greek... all for sinister reasons. Francisca is sure of that.

“Well, lets hope you were more persuasive than I was...”

*#*

Roger is both exhausted and disappointed when he makes his way back to the man's locker room. He half expects to run into Rafa there, but when he enters the room, neither the Spaniard nor his countryman are there. Either they have already left – which Roger hardly believes – or they are about somewhere and will show up at any minute. For right now he is alone with the rather tempting opportunity to delve into his misery for just a moment or two. He had been a little anxious about this... Grand Slam re-match with Stefanos and it seems he has been right to feel that way. He has lost... and he feels he has let a couple of real chances slip by.

But being bitter about the loss will not help him. Of course he isn't happy, of course it is a missed opportunity, but it is not the end of the world. There are other tournaments still to be played this year, other chances and as of yet this is not the last Grand Slam he will play. He has not reached the end of his career yet. But still, it's not the outcome Roger has hoped or wished for and he will need a little while to both digest and refocus.

Unfortunately his little stroll down the lane of self-pity leaves him still sitting sweaty and prone on the bench in the locker room, when Stefanos appears, having finished his on-court interview. Roger expects the younger man to look happy, but to try and keep his reaction subdued for the Swiss sake. But that is not what happens. Stefanos is indeed smiling when he enters the locker room. But as soon as he catches sight of Roger, that happy expression vanishes from his face and the younger Greek steps up to him, his expression grim and very much accusing. What he has to say though, takes Roger completely by surprise.

“Your wife is quite a piece of work, man...”

“What... I don't... What is that supposed to mean?!”

“Are you actually trying to pretend you don't know?!”

Stefanos sounds exasperated and Roger has no idea why. Obviously there has been some sort of altercation between his wife and the younger Greek, but if that is indeed the case, Roger has not been aware of it. Mirka hasn't told him and Stefanos isn't really telling him now either. The young Greek is infuriatingly vague and doesn't relay any details on what he feels Mirka might or might not have done wrong. Right now, Roger truly feels no urge to find out what Stefanos' problem is. He has just lost an important match – to the Greek no less – and he wants a moment of peace and quiet before facing the media circus. But it seems not even that chance is granted to him. And he can't help his reaction – he snaps at the Greek.

“Don't know what? Isn't it enough that you just kicked me out of the damn tournament? Do you have to be cryptic and confrontational as well? I hate to say it, but it's not exactly a very sportsman like thing to do.”

“That is rich coming from you, wanting to talk to me about sportsmanship.”

“What the hell are you getting at?!”

Roger has forced himself to get up from the bench he has been sitting on. It still doesn't exactly bring him to eye level with Stefanos, but at least now they are both standing. And the Swiss' anger seems to actually have an impact, because even though Stefanos doesn't exactly retreat, he does not engage in their argument any further. But his tone of voice is still very much cold and unforgiving when he tells Roger – and Mirka by extension – to stay the hell clear of the young Greek. A demand Roger gladly abides by.

“Forget it, okay? Forget I said anything. Just... keep your wife far, far away from me.”

“She has never been near you! Why should she anyway?”

“That is a very good question. Maybe you should ask her that.”

The younger man abruptly turns his back on him after his last statement. He had been so sure things were back to normal, after last night's dinner had revealed a very simple and innocent explanation for both his wife's and Rafa's fiance's behavior. But it seems both he and Rafa have been lead astray. Because whatever Stefanos is hinting at, it does not sound like something the Mirka Roger knows would ever do... He sighs audibly and closes his eyes for just a moment. Yet another mystery to solve...

*#*

Rafa's match is over in four sets and even though he wins, he thanks whatever higher power there is, that his match against Stan has not gone into a fifth set. He isn't sure if he would have managed to pull through the full distance victoriously. It has started early on in the second set with a dull throb in his right knee, that has persistently gotten worse with each point played and by the end of that set the dull throb had turned into a rather sharp pinch. Rafa tries his best to ignore it, tries to play through the pain. But it's difficult and he knows his body well enough to be able to tell that this isn't just a fluke... This is – quite possibly – something serious.

He has a trainer out on court in between sets two and three and gets the knee taped. It helps a little, but of course Stan on the other side of the net is now well aware of his problems and makes an effort to run him around the court. Rafa loses the third set 6:2. Stan wins three consecutive games in the fourth set, managing a break of serve. And then he... deflates. Rafa has no other way of explaining what happens. The Swiss doesn't win a single more game, barely even wins any points any more and Rafa wins the fourth set 6:3, and the match. He is through to the semifinal... and his knee hurts like a bitch.

Walking off the court after his on-court interview and trying not to limp in the process in order to keep pressure off his definitely injured knee. He is glad when he finally reaches the locker room and has a chance to sit down, rest the knee and get rid of the medical tape that has been applied. He feels utterly exhausted and he could use a chance to be alone for a little while to come to terms with the fact that his body is betraying him yet again... But he can hear the water running in the shower and he knows Stan is still around, getting ready for his post-match responsibilities.

The Swiss provides a rather good distraction, because his behavior out there on the court in that last set they have played has been pretty much bizarre. He should have won that set, should have won a fifth set after that as well, but it hasn't happened. For some reason Stan has not been able to take advantage of the fact that Rafa's knee is hurting and his movement is hampered because of it. The Spaniard really would like to know why. He probably shouldn't probe his opponent like this, especially now that he has lost, but when the Swiss returns from the shower and acknowledges Rafa's presence with a nod, the other man can't help himself. He presses for answers.

“Stan, I... I'm sorry to be blunt, but... Are you alright? That fourth set... you seemed... slower.”

“It's nothing. Ran out of energy, I guess.”

There is something in the other man's tone and in the way he avoids Rafa's gaze that tells the Spaniard something is wrong. Of course the other man doesn't have to tell him what is bothering him. Stan has just lost and even though Rafa would consider the other man a loose friend on the pro tour, they are nowhere near close enough to one another to share feelings or even secrets. If there is something Stan wants to hide from him, that is okay. But once more Rafa's curiosity wins the better of him.

“Are you sure?”

“Damn it, Rafa! You won, I lost. Why the hell can't you just accept the facts and leave me alone about this? You got what you wanted.”

“I... I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, I'm sure you are...”

Stan's outburst dissipates as quickly as it has appeared but still Rafa is completely taken aback by it. It is not that he has never seen the other man agitated or emotional, but not usually after a match. Tension runs high during matches, emotions sometimes get the better of a player. But the match outcome is determined and the Swiss has no reason to be angry. But he is... and it sounds like he is accusing Rafa of having done something wrong in the process of winning this match. Whatever Stan means to tell him, Rafa doesn't get a chance to ask. In that moment the door to the locker room opens and his fiance appears in the doorway.

She is not supposed to be here, but Rafa has no doubt in his mind she has managed to charm one of the tournament officials into allowing her inside regardless. Given how she is dressed that cannot have been a great feat to be accomplished. Of course he has been aware of her choice of clothes before, but right now it somehow hits him all over again. It isn't really the way too short dress, but the expression on her face that takes him by surprise that much. She doesn't look happy for him, but happy for Stan to have lost. She is gleeful and she actually addresses the Swiss before ever addressing her fiance.

“You are not very nice or gracious in defeat.”

There is a coldness to her voice Rafa doesn't remember ever to have heard before and while he looks at her shocked, Stan actually flinches. Rafa fully expects the Swiss to retaliate in some way, because Meri has no right or reason to talk to him like this. But he doesn't so much as try to confront her. Instead he tries to steer clear of Meri and turns to leave, using a mumbled excuse.

“I really should get toweled off and changed. Press to talk to and all that...”

Looking at his fiance, something flashes across the Swiss face, Rafa can't quite place. As soon as Stan turns to go about his business, Meri turns to face him. She smiles... It is the scariest expression he has ever seen on her face before.

“Congratulations.”


	10. Chapter 10

Rafa hasn't talked to her much after she has come to see him at the locker room and make sure his Swiss opponent keeps his mouth shut about their earlier encounter. He tells her to wait for him at the player's restaurant, takes a shower, goes to talk to the press and picks her up after that. They go to dinner after a quick stop at the hotel and even here Rafa is not in a talkative mood – at least not when it comes to her. He mostly talks to his team in hushed tones, talking about the match, talking about how he feels physically right now. The meal is over in less than an hour and back at the hotel Rafa opts for going to bed right away.

He hasn't talked to her all morning either. He has been quiet at breakfast and afterwards, he has asked her to return to their room on her own, while he has joined his coach and physio. He hasn't told her why though, but it was easy to assume it had something to do with the semifinal on Thursday. Of course she is aware of the need for a bit of medical assistance during the match yesterday. But when she had gone to congratulate Rafa after the match, he had already removed that tape, and on their way back to the hotel and at dinner afterwards he hadn't seemed hampered at all.

He has spent quite a bit of time in the bathroom before they had gone to bed last night and she cannot account for what he has done in there. He has fallen asleep rather quickly, so Francisca can only assume Rafa has taken some kind of medication. Maybe his knee has indeed still been bothering him. But he hasn't told her and – with no memory of any previous problems in that regard – she cannot fathom how serious the problem really is. The result is still the same. Rafa withdraws from her just a little... and she feels she needs to counteract that.

When he returns there is a barely detectable limp to his movement and her fiance's knee looks just a little bit bruised and swollen. Francisca can only assume there has been some sort of ministration Rafa's physio has put the other man through. She can only hope it has helped, but judging from the expression on Rafa's face, he is anything but happy with his current physical predicament. It is not that Francisca has never dealt with him in a situation like this. Back in her world, Rafael has bad days of course and ends up in a funky mood from time to time. But back in her world she knows how to deal with him. This man is a stranger to her...

She knows she has told Mirka before that any kind of intimate physical contact with these two men that look like their partners but aren't really them, would be a last resort to her. But after all the effort she has gone through to make sure Rafa reaches the semifinal, she at least wants him to be happy about his victory and not in a gloomy mood because of some issue with his knee. And there is something she can do about it. As established a day and a half earlier – Rafa is a guy and guys like sex... especially when they need a distraction.

He gives her a soft, but very strained smile when he returns but he still doesn't talk to her. Were she the woman he knows, the woman he will marry in a couple weeks time, she would probably know what to do and how to handle the situation best. She would know whether to try and engage him in conversation or leave him alone. But this way all she can do is go on instinct and instinct tells her not to talk. Talking is only bound to cause more problems, because there is just so much she doesn't know about this version of her husband. But she can engage in non-verbal contact.

She quickly debates changing into something a little less casual then the capri pants and wide, red shirt she is wearing, but decides against it. In the end, the clothes she wears don't matter anyhow. She is barefoot and that makes it easier for her to approach Rafa without him ever even realizing she is moving closer. She could address him first, could wrap her arms around him and gauge his reaction. But she decides to do neither of those things. Instead she leans down carefully and places a very soft kiss right at the nape of Rafa's neck.

The reaction is instantaneous. Goosebumps start forming on his skin where her lips have touched it and a soft shiver seems to run down his spine. The sound he makes is somewhere between appreciative and hungry – hungry for more of this. Francisca doesn't even try to hide back a satisfied smile. It's good to know she can have that kind of an effect on him, even if she is not the woman he knows. To herself it all feels oddly familiar. The touch of his skin on her lips, the warmth of his body, his scent... It all feels exactly as it should and Francisca allows for that feeling to lead her.

“More?”

Rafa takes a moment before he reacts, half turning around to face her properly. He looks up at her, eyes a little fogged over all of a sudden and even though he never says a word, the urgency in those eyes is very much palpable. He nods in reply – urgently, desperately... needy. Francisca places another soft kiss on the very same tender and receptive spot on his neck, eliciting a soft gasp and moan and then holds out a hand for him to grab, her voice smooth and sweet like honey, her gestures inviting, her facial expression almost predatory.

“Let's go to the bedroom.”

The second Rafa gets up – following on her incentive – and they are standing so close to one another she can feel his warm breath on her cheek, there is an urgency to both their actions that speaks of a longing and need neither one of them has even been aware of until now. They kiss – a long, deep, passionate exchange of lips on lips, eyes closed, just a little bit of teasing, of soft nibbling and sucking on the other one's lips and then they break apart. Francisca finds herself giggling. It's a reaction she hasn't shown in quite a while... at least not that she can remember it.

They hurry to the adjacent bedroom after that, pretty much locked in embrace while walking, practically stumbling over one another, while Francisca frees Rafa from the shirt he is wearing. By the time his hands grab for the hem of her own shirt, she is already fumbling with the button and zipper of the jeans he is wearing, her fingers practically trembling with impatience. She stops – distracted – when Rafa is the one to initiate another kiss and then a falling sensation grabs a hold of her as they reach the bed and she allows herself to simply dip back.

There is a moment of almost childish laughter shared between them as Rafa tries – pretty much in vain – not to fully land right on top of her and force the air out of her lungs. For the longest of moments he is simply looking at her, an intensity to his gaze that is almost uncomfortable. It feels like he has never seen her before or not for a long time and is drinking in every detail of her features. He reaches out a hand to brush a strand of loose hair from her face and even though his fingers are calloused, the gesture is gentle and his touch soft as a feather.

It's a short moment of absolute calm, of taking a moment to breathe and simply cherish the fact that they are here, just the two of them. But this is not what Francisca has taken Rafa to the bedroom for. She has entirely different plans than to look into his eyes longingly. This time she manages to kiss him while dealing with the offending piece of fabric he is still wearing, getting rid of her own pair of pants before Rafa has a chance to help her. They are both in their underwear now, still kissing, exploring one another's skin, soft caresses sending waves of what feels like electricity right through the both of them.

The soft, lightly painful tug Francisca feels deep in her stomach, tells her all too clearly she has no need or use for a lot of teasing or foreplay. Her friend's voice tries to make an appearance in her mind for just a second, scolding her that – technically – this is cheating. But she really doesn't care. Not right now. The one thing she feels right now is good and willing to simply let go of all the anxiousness and fear of the last few days. She wants to enjoy, wants to fade out everything else and simply concentrate on the sentiment.

Rafa's fingers brush down her sides and he uses exactly the right kind of pressure for it to be arousing and enjoyable instead of feeling ticklish. He places a kiss on her throat right below the pulse point and Francisca takes a shuddering intake of air. She wants more of this, more of him and she needs to tell him. But her own voice is escaping her right now and her mind feels a little bit foggy and slow.

Rafa takes things slow with her – whether on purpose or because that is how they usually take things, Francisca isn't sure. Maybe he needs to take his time and it's not about her at all. He has been the one in a funk and bad mood after all, it's only natural he wants to enjoy this encounter to the full extent of it. For her however, things are definitely going to slow and she allows instinct to take over again. She pushes up a little, catching Rafa's hands still caressing her, engaging in yet another deep, breathless kiss that is more tongue than lips and when she breaks away from him, her smile is both inviting and mischievous at the same time. The suggestion escapes her lips without thought, makes her say something she knows he will like... or at least she believes so. Because for just a moment there, she has managed to forget about the current facts of her life.

„Would you... like to tie me up?“

„What?“

„I'm sure we can find something. You can use the stocking... or something more restraining if that's what you want.“

Being so hung up on the chance to kick things up a notch and add a little bit of kink to this otherwise rather tame encounter as of yet, Francisca completely forgets about the fact that she is not talking to the man she knows. And she doesn't pick up on the surprised and somewhat bewildered tone to Rafa's voice. It seems this man, who is definitely not her husband, is actually taken aback by her suggestion. She cannot even begin to fathom why. It's not like she has suggested he hit her or anything. It's just a bit of – mostly – innocent fun. And still something shifts, changes, stops... and he seems to lose every interest in continuing from one moment to the next.

Rafa pulls back from her, scampering to the edge of the bed to bend down and grab for his pants, while simultaneously picking up her shirt and handing it to her. Quite obviously any chance to actually sate that deep longing in her gut is now over. It's not that Rafa looks... disgusted or anything. But his reaction is still very much an emotional one. It seems the couple is just as boring in their sex life as they are in every other aspect of their relationship and it angers Francisca to no end. She has been willing to overlook the fact that this is not her husband and she is indeed willing to cheat on the man she is actually married to. But she has taken that in stride and has decided to simply engage and enjoy. And now she gets nothing at all... because Rafa is acting like a damn prude school girl at an all girl catholic school. Francisca doesn't even try to hide her anger.

„I don't want any of that!“

„You don't... What the hell else do you want then?!“

„All I wanted was a chance to kiss you, hold you, show you how much I appreciate your presence and support!“

It sounds utterly ridiculous, especially given how passionate they have been with each other just moments ago and Francisca can't help but snort at the implications of what Rafa tells her, a strangled chuckle escaping her lips. Kissing, hand holding, cuddling... like they are goddamn teenagers. Francisca actually feels used and betrayed at the realization. This has never been about intimacy or longing and it seems it has never been about her either. It has all been about him – him and his need for assurance, appreciation and support. An indistinct, but downright disgusted sound escapes her lips before she actually allows her anger and frustration to be put into words.

„Good god, this can't be happening. What's next on the list? Vanilla sex with the curtains closed, the lights out and the blanket drawn up to our shoulders?!“

„I... I don't understand. Why are you angry with me?“

She could explain it to him of course, could explain to him why his tender approach makes her feel like the least wanted and appreciated woman on the whole wide earth. But Francisca is under the very distinct impression, that he would never be able to understand. The woman who has taken her place in her own reality probably would have known that with Rafa being in such a bad mood and dealing with some sort of health problem that she still can't fully comprehend – because he simply doesn't talk to her about it – a more gentle approach to physical contact would have been needed. But she is not that woman and she is disappointed – both in him and in herself. She needs distance, a breather, a chance to be on her own and think things through.

“Never mind. I need a drink. I'll be back later.”

*#*

Francisca practically flees the bedroom without giving Rafa another chance to stop or talk to her, picks up her clothes, has the presence of mind to pick up her disposable cell phone and makes her way to the hotel bar in the lobby. It is only after settling on one of the bar stools and ordering a drink, that she calls Mirka. She knows she shouldn't have run from her and Rafa's shared hotel room like this and she knows the older woman probably will either scold her or laugh at her for her rash reaction. But Mirka is also the only one she can talk to about any of this... and of course the older woman agrees to meet her.

It takes a little less than ten minutes and when Mirka arrives at the bar, she is dressed rather casually and looks anything but happy to have been summoned here like this. Francisca however could care less how Mirka feels. She needs the older woman's help and advice and she needs it now. Mirka settles next to her, orders a soda for herself and her eyes search Francisca's face for any clue as to how she is feeling. Obviously her expression is closed off enough, because Mirka finally asks her what has brought them here like this.

“What happened?”

“I tried to follow through on my own advice to cheer up this paper tiger version of my husband.”

“You had sex with him?!”

Mirka's reaction is way too loud and way too exasperated and Francisca actually flinches. Mercifully the lobby and bar are pretty much empty at this early hour of the day and the only one who's attention is drawn to them because of Mirka's sudden outburst is the barkeeper. But he only looks and frowns at them for a second, before returning to his task of cleaning cocktail glasses again. For a second it is on the tip of Francisca's tongue to tell Mirka to be just a little less loud and brash. But she stops herself. Fighting with the other woman is not going to help her.

“I tried to. We didn't get very far...”

“And then you ran?”

“I didn't run. I decided I needed a breather.”

“So... you ran.”

“Yes, I ran.”

It's hard to admit to her fault, but Mirka is right. Francisca has indeed run from a situation she should have tried to solve. But she hasn't known how to do it then and she still has no clue now. Her drink hasn't really helped her either and so far Mirka's support has pretty much been non existent as well. Mostly the older woman seems to take pleasure in scolding her. Even now that she suggests a solution, there is a barely veiled tone of reproach to her voice.

“We are no closer to a solution as of yet and you yourself said we need to keep under the radar until we do... You have to go back to him.”

“And tell him what? That I had a meltdown?”

“Sounds plausible enough for me.”

Francisca makes a face at Mirka's statement and takes a long sip from her drink. It is fruity mostly, but what alcohol is included is mildly burning in her throat. It doesn't help to calm her nerves though and it doesn't bring the inspiration to her she has hoped for. It seems Mirka's solution is the only one at hand and Francisca hates that fact with passion. But appealing to the older woman's feelings and hoping for a better solution does not heed the desired results either.

“That's embarrassing.”

“Shouldn't have run out on him then. You could have avoided the whole mess you are in now.”

“You are truly a good and emphatic friend.”

Sarcasm is practically dripping from Francisca's voice when she accuses Mirka of being no help to her whatsoever. The older woman glares at her and it is only now that Francisca realizes Mirka looks both a little pale and sleep deprived. There has to be a reason for it and she can only assume Mirka has something going on in her own pretend-relationship, that she has to deal with at the moment. She hasn't even bothered to ask. But she doesn't have to. Mirka does tell her with no further incentive, obviously having decided they have spent enough time on Francisca's problem now.

“Oh stop it! We have bigger problems at hand than your over-dramatized, teenage, soap opera love life - with a man that isn't even yours to have any sex with - anyway.”

“What bigger problems?”

“Roger wants to go home, now that he has lost. He wants to leave tomorrow.”

Mirka's revelation hits Francisca like a ton of bricks. The older woman is surprisingly calm in the face of that monumental problem arising in front of them. Mirka cannot leave. They are in this together and they have to find a solution together. They cannot put half a world of distance between them! The older woman has to stay right here! It is the only way they can finally come up with a useful plan and it is the only chance for them to support one another.

“Tomorrow! You cannot just leave!”

“I know that. But I can't tell him that! What the hell am I supposed to do?!”

“You need to find an excuse! You have to stay here!”

Francisca is aware she sounds like a petulant child in a candy store, not getting the sucker she wants. But she can't help it. Mirka cannot leave, it is as simple as that and right now being insistent about that fact is the only thing the Spanish woman can think of. She has her own problems to deal with after all. But she needs Mirka here. And unlike the older woman – who only has shown scorn and amusement at Francisca's problem – the younger woman actually tries to be helpful in the wake of Mirka's problem. Hopefully this way they will have a chance to stay together... and deal with their problems – together.

“I know that. What I don't know is how!”

“We... we both lie. I tell Rafa I was a bit over enthusiastic and that I am sorry and you tell Roger... whatever you need in order for him to delay the travel plans. Tell him you don't feel well, tell him you had something ordered or altered at one of the stores in the city and it'll be a few more days before you can pick it up. Tell him you want more time for a family outing for all I care. Just make sure you stay in New York.”


	11. Chapter 11

They have another drink together before both Mirka and Francisca decide to return to their hotel rooms... and their respective partners in this world. Mirka is actually eager – having a plan to convince Roger to stay now – but Francisca is not looking forward to her return to the hotel room one bit. She isn't even sure Rafa will be there. It's a day off today but surely he has practice scheduled sometime today... or more meetings with his team or plans with his family... She hasn't really listened to him, so she really doesn't know.

But when she returns to the room, he is still there and the second she opens the door, he is right there, obviously having heard her fiddling with the key card and having walked up to greet her. The expression on his face is a mixture of regret and embarrassment and that actually manages to appease Francisca somewhat. At least he is aware he has acted like an idiot earlier. She closes the door behind her – carefully, measuredly – but stays right there, within reach of the door handle, not saying anything, waiting for Rafa to make the first move. And he does not disappoint her – not this time.

“I'm sorry about earlier...”

“I know.”

“I didn't mean to be... boring.”

“Yes. I know that too.”

Of course she doesn't really know that. To Francisca it very much seems Rafa has been happy to be boring. But maybe that is just spite speaking, maybe his and his fiance's love life is usually a lot more exciting than what she has experienced right now. She wouldn't know and she will probably never find out. She certainly doesn't want to give it a second try. He tries to explain his behavior to her of course, but Francisca isn't really interested to hear it. Whatever his reasoning, it's all about him anyway... And right now she isn't interested in his problems. She can't very well simply turn and leave in the middle of the conversation either though, so she listens, without so much as trying to hide her disinterest.

“I just... I have a lot on my mind right now.”

“Like what?”

“I don't think I can win.”

“Why on earth not?”

She sounds more reproachful than emphatic or interested, Francisca is aware of that. But she really doesn't care. In her reality, Rafael does no longer care about the sport as an active participant. He hasn't played a match in years, hasn't so much as picked up a tennis racket and that is the way things are supposed to be. But this version of him is determined to play and hungry for the win. And of course he is devastated at the health problem arising in front of him.

“It's the knees... again. I'm not even sure I will be able to play. Competing at this level with the knees hurting like this, with my range of motion hampered and restricted... It's not a good idea.”

“Why would there be a problem with your knees?”

“What?”

The confused tone to his voice immediately tells Francisca she has yet again stumbled across a fact of this world's Rafa's life, that she is supposed to know about. But she doesn't. There is no counterpart to it in her reality. In her reality Rafa has had a very good career, has stopped playing at the age of thirty and they – along with Mirka and Roger – have built a corporate empire from there on out, which is unparalleled to anything existing in this world. There have never been any serious health problems for Rafa in their world... But here there obviously are and she tries her best to incorporate that fact into her answers, pretending to know something she truly has no clue about whatsoever.

“I... I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. But you should try. You never know how things turn out.”

“You want me to play?”

“Yes.”

The exclamation leaves her mouth without a second thought and quite frankly Francisca has no idea where it has come from. Actually she wants Rafa to stop the whole farce, never pick up a racket again and be done with the sport. But that is not the person he is in this world. And she has seen him play, has seen glimpses of the man she loves and cherishes in her world in him when he is on a tennis court - all determination and strong will. So the answer is easy enough – she wants him to play and she wants him to win. Rafa nods in response, softly, carefully, deeply lost in thought. He sounds troubled when he answers.

“I need to talk to my team... And I need to see the tournament doctor.”

“Do... do you want me to come? Join you? Support you?”

“No. No, thank you. I'll be okay.”

He doesn't – in the least – sound like he will indeed be okay, and the fact that Rafa doesn't want her anywhere near him in his endeavor to make the semifinal a possibility, bothers her to no end. After all he has relied on her support before, had even asked for it and fought with her about the lack of it. And now it seemed he no longer cared. Instead he is ready to leave her behind... Maybe it is just her imagination, but to Francisca it very much feels like Rafa cannot get away from her fast enough.

*#*

Roger is at Arthur Ashe Stadium one more time, clearing out his locker. After last night's match and the altercation with Stefanos, which he still cannot make sense of, taking care of this has slipped his mind. It's nice to have another chance to be at the stadium, and at the same time he feels sad. He will be 40 next year and somehow he doubts he will play in this stadium again. Being here now is not a goodbye really... it is farewell. Roger is interrupted in his rather gloomy thoughts, when the door to the locker room opens and – to Roger's utter surprise – Rafa steps in, dropping down unceremoniously on one of the benches, a wince flashing across his face as he bends the knees to sit.

Roger's heart goes out to the younger man. After everything he has seen from Rafa's match last night, the younger man is dealing with yet another flare-up of his chronic tendonitis and Roger has not expected to see him around. Practicing, putting any more strain on the already injured knees... it is only going to make matters worse. But Rafa is here regardless. Judging from his 'normal' set of clothes, he has not been here to practice though. Maybe he has had some other engagement he couldn't get out of. The simplest way to find out, is to ask. So Roger approaches the younger man, a careful smile on his lips.

“Hi there. I didn't expect to see you here today. And you look... unhappy being here... to say the least.”

“I went to see the tournament doctor. I had treatment. For the knees.”

“I'm sorry... Do you feel better now?”

Rafa shrugs in response, which is not exactly an encouraging reaction. Roger knows it's a stupid thing to ask really. Rafa's problem is not one that will ever go away. He has been dealing with the same injury time and again throughout his career, flaring up at the most inconvenient of times – or at least it always feels that way. Of course whatever treatment Rafa has had cannot cure his chronic knee injury, it can only make it a little better for the time being. All they do is damage control, which is exactly what Rafa tells him now.

“I feel less pain.”

“But that is good, isn't it?”

“It's enough to play tomorrow.”

Roger frowns deeply at that, sure he has somehow managed to mishear or misinterpret what the younger man is telling him. Surely Rafa cannot mean to actually play the semifinal tomorrow. It will be a grueling match in anything but favorable conditions – with the weather hot and humid as it is – and with his injury on top of all that, Rafa is bound to make himself miserable. And of course he risks to make his condition with the knee only that much worse. So there really is no use in any of this. But it seems Rafa has already made up his mind...

“Are you sure you should? I mean, why risk aggravating this...”

“I have been told to.”

“By whom?!”

“Meri. She... she told me to play. She told me to risk aggravating the injury. She told me to risk my health for a match... She has NEVER done that before.”

Rafa's fiance being the one to push him is more than just a little odd, that much the two men can definitely agree on. He has never once heard Rafa tell him Meri has been the one to push him and the Spaniard has just confirmed something like this has never happened before. Roger doesn't understand. Meri cares for her future husband, cares for his well-being more than she cares for his career achievements. After all she loves him and wants him to be both healthy and happy. Playing the match will achieve neither of those things...

“Why would she do that?”

“She didn't know...”

“Rafa, you're not making any sense. She didn't know what? What are you talking about?”

“The injury, Roger. The problem with the knee, a problem I have for a long time. But she didn't remember. I told her about it, told her about the pain, the fact I probably won't play the semifinal... and she had no idea what I was talking about.”

Roger frowns again in reply but doesn't know what to say. Rafa is right – it makes no sense that Meri doesn't know about the health problem. After all she has been a part of Rafa's life for a decade and a half now and she has seen him sidelined by injury on numerous occasions. That is not something one easily forgets... But that is exactly what Rafa tells him. Roger doesn't have to say anything in response though. Rafa is too deeply lost in his thoughts to even realize the Swiss hasn't answered him yet. He still seems to try to come to terms with the facts of his fiance's ignorance.

“How could she not know? I have had this problem with the tendonitis almost all my career. How can she not remember?”

“Maybe it slipped her mind?”

“Something like this, she cannot just forget, can she?”

“No, not really...”

They are at an impasse and Roger truly has no idea how to help or comfort Rafa. Meri's behavior is strange – yet again – and it is probably both disconcerting and just a little insulting to Rafa. He has expected his fiance's empathy and in turn has only gotten her stubborn determination for him to cling to this tournament even though there is no sense to it. It seems entirely out of character and that is exactly how Rafa feels about it as well. Though he uses way more drastic words to describe his current predicament when it comes to the woman he loves.

“This woman in my room, sleeping in my bed. I don't think she is my fiance, Roger.”

“That's ridiculous, Rafa. You know that.”

“But how can she not know? How can she not care?”

“Did you... have another fight?”

“No. Yes. I don't know. We had... a misunderstanding.”

“Misunderstanding? About what?”

“Sex.”

Rafa's answer is open and honest, more so than Roger has ever expected it to be. They don't usually talk about each other's partners, especially not about their sex life, but ever since the blackout, ever since Mirka and Meri have suddenly become friends and the two men have actually talked about them quite frequently, things seem to have changed. Still Roger feels anything but comfortable at the mention of Rafa's and Meri's sexual relationship and he definitely doesn't want to delve into the topic any further.

“Oh... And now you are... on the same page?”

“I don't know. I think so. It's difficult to be sure with her these days... It's like I don't know her anymore... Like I said, I'm not sure she is, who she says she is. She feels so... wrong.”

“I'm sure it's just your imagination, Rafa. You are under a lot of stress at the moment, dealing with a lot of adversity. It's only natural your relationship suffers...”

“But this has never happened before.”

“First time for everything.”

Rafa isn't really satisfied with Roger's answer but the Swiss seems dead set on believing this problem that has arisen between Rafa and Meri is all in the Spaniard's mind. In the end it is not Roger's plight to deal with anyway. This is between Rafa and his fiance. Instead of focusing on this problem that keeps wearing him down, Rafa tries to steer the conversation into a more productive and less depressing direction. He studies Roger for a quick moment, realizing the Swiss has a half packed bag standing in front of his locker. Rafa motions towards it with a nod of the head.

“You are leaving?”

“Well, I planned to. But apparently Mirka wants to stay a couple more days. And with you here as well and her probably planning to take your fiance out on another outing or two, I agreed. At least this way we get a chance or two to spend some more time together as well. Two weeks is a long time...”

Roger smiles a little sheepishly, knowing fully well he sounds like an infatuated teenager. But it's true after all – not seeing Rafa at all for weeks at a time is difficult and not just for him. Though the Spaniard would never admit to the fact. Of course Rafa tells him he misses him and that he enjoys spending time with him, but the Spaniard manages to pack his time off full of practice sessions, sponsorship responsibilities, outings with friends and time spend with his family, that he rarely ever gets a chance to truly miss Roger. At least that is how it seems to the Swiss. This time is no exception.

“It's only 12 days until Laver Cup.”

“Yeah, I'm aware. But after that. You're getting married, you won't play in Asia... I won't see you until mid November. That IS a long time.”

“Not for me. Time will pass very quickly. Blink of an eye...”

“Yeah, I guess so. It's probably just that.”

Rafa gives him a curious look, one eyebrow raised in question, and Roger realizes he has probably been a bit cryptic in his explanations. To him it makes a whole lot of sense, because he has been through this whole process already. After all he and Mirka have been married for more than a decade now. Even though it is quite a while ago, Roger still vividly remembers that feeling of cold feet he has fought through about two weeks before his own wedding. Doubts are natural – in any relationship.

“What is?”

“You feeling estranged and worried about Meri. This close to the wedding date, it's only natural. You're questioning your decision, you re-evaluate, you get... cold feet. It was the same for me and I guess it's the same for anyone. Don't question it. You will be okay, the both of you.”

Rafa has listened closely and from the open and receptive expression on his face, he is actually willing to both believe and utilize Roger's wisdom and experience here. It's nice to see, nice to realize Rafa puts that much stock in Roger's support and opinion. But what is even more rewarding, is the fact that the Spaniard finally has a more positive, happy expression on his face now. For the first time since Roger has encountered the younger man, the smile on Rafa's lips is actually genuine.

“You promise?”

“Cross my heart...”


	12. Chapter 12

*The next day*

Everything seems to have taken a turn for the better. At least that is how Francisca feels about it. Rafa has returned from the tournament site after seeing a doctor and having some treatment and mostly pain management for his knee with a better attitude and a more friendly approach towards her, Mirka has found a way to convince her pretend husband to stay in New York for a couple more days and the semifinal match is still on the agenda for Rafa tonight.

But not everything is all sunshine and roses. Rafa's health problems are hampering him and the pain he is dealing with – despite proper medication – seems to be quite debilitating. Francisca knows – just as well as her fiance – that there is no chance Rafa will win tonight's match. He will try, he will fight, he will deal with the adversity his own body throws at him and in the end he will lose. That is the inevitable outcome. Unless she can change it.

She has recruited Mirka for help, has asked the older woman to be at the tournament site and at the player's box yet again and she has inquired after her approach to get Tsitsipas – Rafa's opponent tonight – to comply with her wishes and make sure the match outcome is in favor of her partner. Of course they both know the young Greek has neither listened nor has felt impressed or intimidated by Mirka's threats. But just because he has been unresponsive once before doesn't mean there has to be a repeat today. After all Francisca and Mirka are two different people... and the Spanish woman has been successful in her own approach with Rafa's quarterfinal opponent. She hopes for a favorable outcome this time as well.

It's a little difficult to catch the Greek alone. His entourage isn't nearly as large as Rafa's, but he travels with a large number of family members just the same and it seems at least one of them is always around. It's quite a tedious waiting game of watching the Greek while he deals with media, fellow players and his team and family, but – finally – Francisca manages to catch him in a moment of privacy. She feels ridiculously nervous doing this and that is idiotic to say the least. She has done things like this – using blackmail, making sure people are being compliant – a hundred times before. This time shouldn't be any different.

She walks up to him and her heart sinks when the younger man smiles at her. She is pretty sure they don't know one another, but they know of one another and the Greek seems to like her. Francisca hides back a sigh. She isn't sure if this development will help or hurt her. It will make it more difficult to convince the Greek of her – slightly sinister – intentions. But maybe he will be taken by surprise that much, that he will comply more easily. She hopes for the latter... and doesn't even bother with a greeting, delving right into the situation.

“Did you celebrate your victory with your little German friend?”

“Come again?”

“Sascha. That's his name, isn't it?”

The smile has dropped from the younger man's face and a frown mixed with a stern expression is now the prominent feature on his face. He is obviously confused at her sudden change in demeanor – probably knowing her to be friendly and polite – and he definitely doesn't like the implications made. Francisca does not allow herself to be deterred. This is not the reaction of either discomfort or timidness she has hoped for, but it is a start. She tells herself to be calm, smiles a small, cold, calculating smile and continues, talking about her threat like it is the most normal thing in the world, while the young Greek does his best to deflect.

“Zverev, you mean? We're not friends. Barely even acquaintances to be honest.”

“Do you usually stick your tongue down loose acquaintances' throats?”

The rather crude choice of words do not go with the almost cheery and interested expression on her face and that is exactly how Francisca intends for things to be. She wants to catch the younger man off guard, wants to rattle him and force him into compliance. It seems to work. The young Greek is eerily silent for a long moment and Francisca feels a surge of triumph settling deep in the pit of her stomach. But then he does something the Spanish woman truly hasn't expected, catching her completely off guard. He laughs.

“First Roger's wife, now you too? What is it with you people? Do you have that little faith in your partners, you feel the need to help them along with these stupid threats?!”

“I wouldn't call them stupid. I would call them serious. There has never been an openly gay man in the whole of the pro tour. Ever. Are you sure you want to be the first one?”

“I will not be the first one.”

The Greek kid – and right now Francisca can't think of him in any other way but as an insolent brat – sounds both determined and very sure of himself. He doesn't fear her, isn't so much as fazed by the threats made and the implied chance of a press release about his relationship with the fellow German player about his age. He doesn't care... and he definitely doesn't believe to be in any danger of being found out. It's disconcerting to say the least, but Francisca is nothing if not determined herself. She is not willing to give up just yet, trying a different angle this time.

“That all depends on how serious you decide to take me.”

“No, it won't. Roger's wife didn't follow through on her threat before, you won't follow through on it this time. So – please – stop wasting my time.”

He actually turns his back on her and simply walks away, not even giving Francisca another chance to convince him of the severity of the situation. The fact that Mirka's previous threats have come and gone without any repercussions for the Greek, are royally backfiring on Francisca now. Of course she can't blame Mirka for that. The older woman has gambled, has shown her hand... and she has lost. And now the same thing is happening to Francisca.

She stays rooted to the spot for a long moment, before she actually manages to move again. The situation and it's outcome are so foreign and unbelievable to her, she needs a moment to find her center and balance again. Mirka has warned her, has told her the young Greek has been difficult and impudent around her already and for Francisca to expect the same. But she hasn't... and now she pays the price for being unprepared... She has made a fool of herself and has probably cost Rafa a chance to win his match despite the injury he is dealing with on top of it all. She curses softly. This has not gone her way...

She and Mirka have agreed to meet at the player's restaurant and mercifully the older woman has organized two cups of coffee for them when Francisca arrives. The hot, revitalizing beverage is exactly what she needs right now. She settles in opposite of Mirka, thanks her while pulling the cup closer, takes a deep sip of the offered beverage and allows herself a moment of weakness, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. She can practically feel Mirka's eyes on her and of course the older woman is curious. Francisca really doesn't want to talk about her encounter with the Greek player right now, but of course Mirka wanting to know is to be expected. So she tells her – and vents her anger at the same time.

“How did it go?”

“It didn't. Damn it all to hell! He's just as insolent and audacious as his version in our world... if that is the correct way to describe it.“

„What does it matter how it is best described? What matters is that now we both failed...”

“We didn't fail!”

Francisca's reaction is vehement but she barely manages to put any conviction into her tone of voice. Because she knows she is lying to both Mirka and herself. They have failed – spectacularly so. Something like this wouldn't have happened were they home now, with all the intimate knowledge about every single player as well as a whole network of contacts and helpful hands at their disposal. Here it is just the two of them and that is simply not enough... Mirka points all those facts out to her as well and somehow that makes the misery of their combined failure all the harder to accept.

“We tried to intimidate him and he didn't even take us seriously. That NEVER would have happened to us in our own reality, not even with this one. That fact remains. We are not where we should be and nothing is like it's supposed to be. I hate this!“

“I know and I agree. But hating it is not helping us.”

“Stop telling me things I already know! Be helpful instead. Make a suggestion! What do we do?“

„Leave it, love it or change it.“

“Come again?!”

“Leave it...”

Mirka glares at her and Francisca stops mid-sentence but still grins softly at the older woman. She is aware Mirka has understood her words before and it is simply the content, not the phrasing that has caught the older woman off guard. Francisca doesn't blame her. It's a lame thing to suggest, but still she feels there is some use to the saying. As simplistic as it sounds, the saying sums up exactly what choices they have at their disposal right now. And that is the one good thing – it is their choice. They simply have to make it. Mirka however is still hung up on her friend's choice of words to focus on the decision at hand.

“I heard you the first time. I just thought you hadn't actually used cliché to come up with a useful plan.”

“It's not cliché if it is true.”

“Well, cliché or not. We can't leave, we don't even know how we got here! And I certainly don't want to embrace this life! Not for anything in the world. I want MY life back – I want a husband with a spine, a life without four rugrats in it and the power of control back!“

This is not what Mirka has said to her just a day ago, but Francisca decides not to call her out on it. She is glad the older woman has changed her mind about her contingency plan and has found her conviction again. They both need to be on the same page and it seems they both are very much set on finding a way back home. Or to make a home here that is different from the situation they are trapped in now. Because that is the only other choice they truly have.

„Well, that leaves only one choice. We change it.“

„How?“

Francisca finds herself smiling at the question. She remembers, remembers it all like it has been only yesterday. Both Roger and Rafa retiring, both men using what influence, standing and connection they have had to position themselves in the right spot of the ATP organization and the whole process of converting a sport into business, making the most of it for mainly the four of them. Those have been glorious days and now they live of the fruits of their labor. The prospect of a repeat in this world is actually quite exciting.

“To the way things are at our home. We managed there, why not do it here as well? We could start with the little Greek. Get him to fall into line as he should. Get him to lose that match he's so proud to have a chance to play.“

„I thought you said you already tried that and he was stubborn and arrogant towards you.“

Francisca smirks that time, a plan – and a vicious one at that – already having formed in her mind ever since the moment the young Greek has turned his back on her, leaving her behind. From that moment on it has no longer been about compliance and intimidation, it has no longer been about the upcoming semifinal and Rafa's chance at winning. It has been all about her... and a chance to get revenge on the kid, that had treated her like she was a joke to him. He deserved to be put in his place and Francisca actually feels both excited and gleeful at the prospect of achieving that feat.

„He was. But all I used was words. Obviously this... reality's version of me is far too nice and lenient... And to add insult to injury people like her. There is not one speck of reverence or even respect that she inspires. Of course he would not take the words of a nice, compliant, friendly wallflower like her serious. But words is not all we have in our arsenal. Let's haul out the big guns.“

“Like what?”

„Who is with him?”

“His father, one of his brothers and the little girl.“

The – predatory – smile on Francisca's face widens at the mention of the Greek's little sister and Mirka mirrors the gesture. She knows exactly where this is going, where Francisca's line of thinking has taken her... And this will be as easy as pie. For once, the fact that people think of them as nice, friendly, reliable and not threatening at all will play out to their advantage. Francisca has leaned back on her chair, comfortably lounging, finishing her coffee in small sips and is still smiling, utterly content and jubilant.

„Perfect.“


	13. Chapter 13

It has been so much easier than Mirka has ever even expected, it is almost ridiculous. It has been a combined effort... if one could even speak of effort in this case. Francisca has gone to talk to the Greek's father, engaging him in polite chitchat and finding out this way, that his youngest daughter is still at the hotel. What is even better about all this, is the fact that the older man has proudly told Francisca how grown up the little girl is already and that she is on her own at the moment – because he can trust her to be responsible.

From there on out everything else has fallen into place. Mirka has made the quick trip back to the hotel, has charmed the clerk at reception into giving her the room number of the young Greek's father – where the little girl is residing as well – has picked up one of her own daughters and has dragged her along to convince the little Greek girl of a play-date with the two slightly older twins. It has worked like a charm... and nobody has been suspicious of them for even a second.

Now they are both back at the tournament site waiting for things to unravel. And they do. With so few players still actually involved in the tournament, it is quite easy to keep an eye on the young Greek and his family and when the boy receives a phone call and his facial features go from confused to worried to agitated to downright panicky, it is easy to assume his father has just called, letting him know that he has come to pick up the Greek's youngest sibling only to find her gone without a trace. A long, emotional discussion ensues and when it finally ends, the kid looks like a headless chicken, unsure what to do.

It takes two more phone calls and another half hour of thinking, before the boy finally seems to come to the conclusion, that maybe – just maybe – his sister's disappearance and the fact that he has been threatened prior to his matches twice now, is no coincidence. He walks up to both Mirka and Francisca, who have found a spot at a table at the player's restaurant again and manage to look both inconspicuous and completely innocent when the Greek approaches them, not bothering to say hello and starting off with accusations right away.

„Where is she?“

„I do not have the faintest idea what you are talking about.“

„My sister! My little sister. Where is she?!“

The Greek's voice is cracking with emotion when he demands an answer from the two women, fully expecting that they not only know what he is talking about, but have knowledge of his sister's whereabouts as well. And he is practically trembling with barely contained fury. It would be intimidating, wouldn't both women know that in this world, with all these polite, friendly, nice and downright timid people they have met, the younger man will never dare physically attack them in any way. And even if he would... he will be in for a surprise. They come from a harder, more dangerous and darker world... They know how to make sure they stay safe. For right now both Mirka and Francisca are mainly having a lot of gleeful fun with the young man's frantic desperation.

„Oh, I'm sorry... Did you lose sight of her? I'm sure she will turn up again soon. You really should look out for your family, you know. Having people that love and cherish you is so important... Losing them can be devastating.“

Mirka interjects an equally as cold smile on her lips. They have done something like this before on a couple of occasions and taunting the people in such obvious anguish has always been the best part of the experience. With all this sugarcoated, tame drivel they have gone through for days now, it is no wonder she has managed to almost forget how nice it feels to actually be herself and not some play pretend version. This is what she is good at, what she enjoys to do. This is the life she has been forced away from... and she is glad for a chance to dip back into it.

„We did tell you to carefully evaluate your actions, did we not? And now you managed to lose your little sister in this big scary city? Must be horrifying to even think about... It would be awful if something were to happen to sweet, little Elisavet, wouldn't it?“

„You took her!“

„Whatever gave you that idea? Do you see her with us? Did you see us with her anytime today? Do you have any proof?“

The Greek is definitely trembling with fury now and it is hard for both women not to laugh at the display. Because they know they are right and they also know how infuriating and debilitating the realization must be for the kid. He has no proof whatsoever. All he has is a certain – albeit very strong – suspicion he cannot prove. And he has nothing at hand to force them to be helpful. He cannot make them tell him anything. The only thing he can do is continue the argument... and play right into their hands like this.

„You threatened me!“

„We did no such thing. All we did was give you some friendly advice.“

“Advice my ass! You will tell me where Elisavet is. Right now!”

“Or what?”

The kid steps up to the table and actually manages to look quite intimidating at a little over 6.3 feet. Even standing up now, Francisca has to look up at him and obviously the Greek feels he somehow has an advantage because of that. He actually seems to believe he can force her into compliance. But he is all wrong, as he is about to find out. It happens suddenly – the rather pronounced and painful sting of something cold, sharp and pointy piercing right through the material of his tennis shorts and to a very sensitive area.

Francisca has the coldest of smiles on her lips. The little but very sharp knife is one of the things she has brought with her from her reality. And she has carried it around with her ever since, undetected by security or anyone else for that matter. She hasn't expected to need it, but she is glad she has it on her person right now and can use it for protection. The kid doesn't even dare to flinch and he doesn't need to look down to know there is a knife in Francisca's hand. And one look into her eyes tells him all too clearly she is all business... and she will not hesitate to hurt him if he doesn't back off immediately.

„I wouldn't take a step closer if I were you. Or you're bound to lose something equally as precious to you as your little sister. At least I assume so. How else will you play little hide and seek games with your young German friend?“

He doesn't reply, barely even dares to take a deep breath. The Greek stands stock still, staring at Francisca with wide eyes now and she cannot help the surge of both triumph and glee when the kid raises both hands in a show of defeat and then takes a very measured step back – away from the table, away from her and Mirka, away from the threat to his health. He swallows hard and there is no doubt in either woman's mind that this conversation is over. The Greek looks like he is about to say something. But the words never come. He turns and leaves.

*#*

After retreating from the women – and the very threat to his health they pose – Stefanos hurries out of the player's restaurant in a daze, unsure of what to do now, how to react. He is pretty sure the two women are sitting at a table now, all gleeful and gloating, cackling in satisfaction. But this is not yet over and they will not get away with what they have done. Whatever it is... and that is the thought that threatens to drive him crazy. He is sure his sister is okay, and physically unharmed, but he cannot know... And Rafa's fiance especially has just shown him she is very much capable of physical harm if pushed to it...

There is no doubt in Stefanos' mind that these two are responsible for Elisavet's sudden disappearance. He is one hundred percent absolutely sure of it. But they are not the only ones he can ask for an answer. After all they are here with their respective partners and even though Stefanos does not want to believe either Roger or Rafa would do something like this, would stoop so low, the facts are what they are. They have to know something about all this and hopefully they will be a little more... receptive to his aggressive line of questioning than the two women have been.

He doesn't have to look for too long. Of course his first obvious stop is the locker room, where he fully expects Rafa – and parts of his team - to be. Surprisingly enough Rafa is without his team by his side, but with Roger there. It seems odd to Stefanos but he definitely doesn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth. These are the two people he has wanted to talk to, whose help he is about to recruit. And he is not willing to take no for an answer – no matter the cost or consequence. He doesn't even try to keep his emotions in check, when he calls out to the two men.

“You two! You will help me! Right the fuck now!”

“Stefanos... What on earth has gotten into you?!”

It is Rafa who reacts first and he seems to be completely clueless as to what the younger man wants from him. Stefanos isn't sure what to make of it. Of course Rafa might be lying in order to protect himself, his reputation and his fiance. But that doesn't seem like something Rafa would do. It's just not in his nature. And after all he is an athlete – not an actor. Still Stefanos is too worked up to even consider that neither Roger nor Rafa have any part in Elisavet's disappearance. How could they? Their respective partners are the ones responsible after all and that is something Stefanos knows for sure. So he confronts the two men with his knowledge.

“Your damn fiance kidnapped my sister! And your wife tried to threaten me into losing the quarterfinal match! And she is involved in this whole mess just the same!”

“They... We.. What?! Have you lost your mind?! They did no such thing, neither of them!”

“My sister is MISSING!”

Stefanos practically hurls the last word of his statement at them, but he expects little to come off it. Roger has been married for ten years, has been with his wife for more than eighteen and Rafa has had the same woman on his life for 15 years as well. They know them – intimately. And of course they don't believe them capable of what Stefanos is accusing them of. That doesn't mean there is no empathy coming from them... and of course they are willing to assist him in whatever way possible. It is a nice gesture, but Stefanos is too enraged to even see it. In his mind, the whole group – players and their partners all the same – are responsible. And all he wants is Elisavet back – safe and sound. 

“I'm so sorry... How can we help?”

“You can find her, damn it!”

The two men exchange a glance and there is no glee or malice in either of their eyes. They seem genuinely surprised and downright horrified to find out what Stefanos has just told them.  
Stefanos explains the earlier events, tells them about Mirka and Meri threatening him, tells them about their glee at hearing him say his sister is missing. And something shifts in the two men's reactions. Maybe Stefanos is imagining things but it's almost like they suddenly can make sense of what he says, can make a connection between their actions and the women they actually now... And they are indeed willing to act on his incentive.

“Both your partners threatened me to lose the matches we played or are about to play and when I confronted them about Elisavet they were taunting me. They know where she is! And I want her back.”

“Where are they now?”

“I don't know, okay! I last saw them at the player's restaurant but I don't know if they stayed. They have to be around somewhere.”

The two older men exchange looks again and Roger is the first to spring into action, ready to leave the locker room and go in search of his wife to confront her. Rafa is a little slower but that is definitely not a sign of unwillingness. It's simply a manifestation of his injury, that makes it hard for him to get up from the bench he is sitting on in one swift motion. There is a soft grimace of pain flashing across his face for just a second, but Stefanos barely notices. All he can think of is his sister. It is also Roger who speaks up again first - promising him both their help with finding her.

“We will find them and talk to them and if they have anything to do with your sister's disappearance we will find out and get her safely back to you of course.”

“Good. You do that and you do it now. I will not step out on that court until Elisavet is safely back with us!”

“You won't have to.”

“I won't... What?”

It has been meant as a rather hollow threat, because Stefanos plans to play the semifinal no matter what. He will not be intimidated, he will not be bullied out of this chance. But it seems he doesn't even have to fight for it. Because hearing Rafa's defeated tone and seeing the barely veiled anguish in the other man's eyes, Stefanos – even in his frenzy over his missing sister – knows exactly what Rafa is about to tell him. There will be no semifinal for the Spaniard tonight... and somehow Stefanos cannot shake the thought it is not just Rafa's injury, but his fiance's action just the same, that have him make the decision to give the match and the victory to Stefanos without a fight.

“I won't play, Stefanos. Not like this. I deal with an injury, you know this. And it was a tough decision already. But this... this is never something I wanted or want any part of. I will not play like this. I withdraw. You can play the final.”

“But...”

“We will let you know if we find out anything about your sister.”

“Thanks...”

Roger interrupts him mid-sentence and all the Greek is still able to get out, is an expression of gratitude before Rafa has joined Roger by the door to the locker room now and the two of them are ready to leave. Stefanos follows and watches as the two men leave, walking down the corridor – Roger with a nervous spring, Rafa with a barely noticeable limp in his step, engrossed in a serious conversation in hushed tones as they leave. They are taken aback, shocked by the disappearance of Elisavet and determined to help. Stefanos closes his eyes, taking in a deep intake of air, holding it and letting it out slowly and carefully. He feels a little better, a little calmer now. For the first time since this whole ordeal has started, Stefanos is sure it will take a turn for the better.


	14. Chapter 14

It has been a wild goose chase for quite a while now, but so far neither Rafa nor Roger have been able to find either of their partners. They are not in the stadium, not at one of the practice courts, not at the player's restaurant or anywhere else they are supposed to be. It seems like the two women have suddenly vanished off the face of the earth. They have only stopped their search for a little while, for Rafa to finally make a quick statement to the press, announcing his withdrawal from the semifinal and then they have returned to the hotel in hopes that the fact the match will not be played will finally flush the two women out and make them show up again.

Rafa has invited Roger to come to his room with him in order for them to come up with some sort of game plan before confronting their respective partners. The decision to stick together while talking to their respective partners hasn't even been open for discussion. This is such a unique and bizarre situation, neither one of them wants to deal with the women in their lives, who have potentially not only threatened a fellow player but have actually kidnapped one of his family members, alone. Who knows what these two are capable of if they are willing to go to such lengths to predetermine the outcome of a tennis match...

At least that is what they have agreed on and it is why they are waiting at Rafa's hotel room together, waiting for Francisca to show up again. But when the jingling of the key card can be heard by the door, Rafa has a very sudden and complete change of heart. Eyes suddenly wide and motions erratic, he points to the adjacent bedroom with vehemence and an urgency that seems almost desperate. All of a sudden he wants Roger out of sight, explaining himself breathlessly before Meri has a chance to enter the room and see them together.

“Stay out of side, okay Rogi? Give me a chance to talk to Meri alone for just for a minute. Please?”

“But we agreed to do this together...”

“I know. And we will. Just let me talk to her first. Make her see reason. I think she will listen to me more easily than she will listen if we both crowd and try to talk her into compliance. I don't want to risk any harm coming to that little girl just because we backed the... the person who took her into a corner.”

It is surreal for Rafa to talk about his fiance like this. The things, Stefanos has accused Meri of, the things she has supposedly done – those are not actions Rafa would have associated with the woman he loves in a million years. But then again he has been absolutely sure something is off and wrong with Meri for quite a while now. And as much as he – and Roger for that matter – has tried to convince himself he is simply overreacting or putting too much stock in his own feelings, he knows he has been lying to himself now. This Meri... she is definitely not the woman he knows or loves. And he will get her to admit to that – somehow. The Swiss looks troubled but finally Roger nods his head yes, just in time before the door to the room opens. He whispers to Rafa and then quickly disappears into the adjacent bedroom, only half closing the door behind him.

“Okay. But I will stay within earshot.”

Roger has barely disappeared when Meri has already stepped into the room, her eyes sweeping the premises and landing on Rafa. There is a coolness and darkness in her eyes that sends a shiver down the Spaniard's spine. He has no idea how he hasn't noticed it before, but it is not the first time his fiance... or whoever this woman is, looks at him like this. He swallows hard, wills himself to stay calm and endures her emotional onslaught, completely ignoring it and sticking to his own agenda instead.

“Rafa... What on earth are you doing here?! I was at the stadium and all of a sudden they announced there would be no match played?! What is that all about?! You said you would play!”

“Meri, we need to talk.”

“Of course we need to talk. About your reasons to not compete for example!”

She sounds reproachful and dismissive and it is clear to see she isn't really interested in his reasons for not playing. Rafa's heart sinks. It only confirms what Stefanos has accused her and Mirka of. Why would Meri be this invested in a match she logically knows Rafa has no chance of winning if she hasn't tried to tip the scale in his favor. He really doesn't know what to make of this, has no clue as to how best approach the subject. The easiest way is probably bluntness – confront her and see what comes of it. As much as it hurts, Rafa listens to his instincts... and tells her what he knows.

“That's not important right now. What is important is what you did to make sure I would win. We need to talk about Stefanos... and his little sister.”

“She's fine, damn it!”

“What?!”

His reply is a whisper and Rafa very much feels like his fiance – instead of answering in a harsh, impatient tone – has physically struck him. It is almost painful to hear her admit to this unthinkable act of cruelty, that has left Stefanos on the very edge of his sanity, worrying for his sister's safety, without so much as a speck of empathy. Rafa cannot even imagine going through the same kind of horror. If Maribel were to disappear and he would fear for her safety... It's unthinkable. And yet that is what Meri – and Mirka – have done to the young Greek. Rafa shakes his head, barely can stop himself from doing so for an extended period of time and doesn't manage another verbal reaction. Meri doesn't even seem to notice and goes on explaining – completely unfazed.

“I said she is fine. She is with Mirka and the girls. We will return her... soon. There's no sense in keeping her now...”

“So you... you did take her?!”

“Yes.”

She admits it – no protest, no attempt to defend herself and not even the slightest show of regret. There isn't even a flicker of emotion in her eyes. They stay as cold and dark and detached as they have been when she has first entered the room. The feeling that this woman is not his fiance, simply cannot be her and is somebody else, some impostor only pretending, is so strong, Rafa is almost willing to believe it. Because that is easier, it is less painful. It is also fantastic and highly unlikely. But at least this way he can make sense of the events. Because his Meri would never do what this woman has done!

“How could you?!”

“In order to establish a good bargaining position.”

“Bargaining?! This is a little girl's freedom. Stefanos was out of his mind with worry! You had no right to do this.”

Meri shrugs. She actually shrugs her shoulders at him and looks completely unfazed by his reproach and accusation, by him telling her with all the emotion and vehemence he can come up with, that she has done something horribly wrong. He questions her morality, questions her very sanity and Meri doesn't care. What she has to say is even more awful, because as if belittling the severity of the situation isn't bad enough, she actually insults Stefanos on top of it all.

“I wouldn't have had to if the little Greek had been reasonable.”

„I don't even know who you are anymore...”

“I'm your fiance, Rafa.”

His own defeated statement is countered by her stating the obvious facts. But she doesn't even try to sound convincing. Actually this woman - Rafa suddenly doesn't know anymore - shows an amount of disinterest that is insulting... and very much scary. What is even more scary of course is her complete and utter change of character. She is nothing like the woman he knows. The only explanation – the only logical explanation that is – is some sort of insanity... Which would be heartbreaking, but at least this way matters would finally make sense to him again. He shakes his head at her, defeated.

“No. You are a lot of things, but you are not my fiance. You are not the woman I agreed to marry.“

„You agreed? And here I was thinking you were happy about me saying yes to the proposal. I wasn't aware we were having an agreement.“

„You're twisting my words. And that only goes to show it. The woman I know wouldn't do that.“

„Maybe you aren't as perceptive as you think.“

„And you act nothing like yourself! This vindictive streak, the coldness, the calculating way you go about every last of your actions. That's not you.“

An awkward, very tense silence follow Rafa's outburst and he half expects Meri to finally deflate, show some emotion, maybe even cry. He expects her to see reason. But it never happens. Instead the coldness in her eyes is replaced by a sudden fire of righteous anger that feels completely out of place, even in this utterly surreal situation. If at all possible, what she has to say to him manages to overwhelm Rafa even more – not just because of her feelings for him, but because of the utterly fantastic things she admits to.

„God, I HATE you. With every last fiber of my being. How can you be this... boring and timid and humble and self-conscious?! What the hell happened to you in this reality?!“

„This reality?!“

She doesn't even answer, but she doesn't stop herself either. She is too angry for that, too worked up and the cat is out of the bag now anyway. It doesn't matter. People have been injured or worse on her order before. And this version of her husband, this version of Rafael is nothing like the man she knows and loves. He doesn't mean anything to her. If keeping the secret of her true origin means to shut him up and get rid of him, then so be it. She is positive she will return to her own world at some point and then this meek version of the man she knows will no longer be her problem. So she can tell him the truth all the same. At least she gets it off her chest this way.

„In my world, we RUN the industry that is this sport. You don't stand around a court for hours at a time, getting all sweaty and dirty and exhausted while running after a little, fuzzy, yellow ball. That's all in the past. Others do the work for us, do as they are told. And we gain from it. MY Rafael is a fierce man, a strong one, determined and strong-willed with no tolerance for half-cocked idiots trying to defy or defraud him. He wouldn't have any of that. But you... you're just a shadow of that man. And I can't stand one more second of it!“

„What the hell are you talking about?! What do you mean you run an industry? Who are you?!“

„I am the same woman you know, but I am not her. At least not in this world. But this world is a fluffy joke compared to mine. And I want my damn life back!“

Meri moves, bends down and reaches into the edge of her knee high boots. When she straightens back up something sharp and shiny is showing in her hands – it's a weapon. A hysterical laugh threatens to escape from Rafa's lips. There was a knife stuck in her boot. The realization is so damn ridiculous, Rafa is sure he is imagining things, has suddenly lost his mind over the fact that the woman he loves, that he has been with for 15 years, has gone insane all of a sudden. But it is really happening... there is a weapon in her hand.

That – compared with the utterly cold and scary look in her eyes – is so wrong, so bizarre for a moment Rafa is still sure he is either dreaming or hallucinating. But the knife is real, the hard, cold, unforgiving look in Meri's eyes is real and when she takes a step closer to him, survival instinct finally takes over and Rafa takes a step back. His voice is wavering, cracking with both anguish and confusion but even now Meri shows no reaction to his internal turmoil.

„What are you doing...“

„Showing you what I am capable of.“

„Meri, please...“

Calling her by name seems like a safe course of action, like the right way to hopefully reach her and make her see there is no threat emanating from him. But it backfires royally. That fire of anger and hatred returns to her eyes with a vengeance and she takes a step closer to him, with Rafa moving back in turn. He raises both hands in a gesture of defeat, hoping it deters Meri from her path to threaten or maybe even hurt him. But she is very much determined... and angry, unbelievably angry with him.

„DON'T call me that, damn it. I am Francisca, you are Rafael. I am your wife, have been for almost ten years now. Mirka and Roger are our closest friends and greatest allies in our business endeavor and they do NOT have any children. We RUN the world of tennis and nothing is ever going to change that. What we say, happens. Whoever steps out of line, quickly learns the consequences of his actions and that is how it's supposed to be. I will not allow anyone to stand in the way of that. So either you help me get back to my reality or you remake it here with me.“

„I don't want to remake a world in which tennis is not about fair play and competition but all about business success and intimidation and fear.“

Rafa has no idea where his determination to defy this stranger with a knife in her hand has suddenly come from. Maybe because he still halfway believes he is imagining things, that this cannot be the woman he actually knows and loves and that it will turn out to be just some cosmic joke in the end. But he couldn't be more wrong. This impostor, who has claimed to be Meri for the last couple of days, raises the weapon in her hand just a little higher, her grip tightening on the hilt of it.

„Then I have no use for you.“


	15. Chapter 15

What happens next is something Rafa can never fully explain to anyone afterwards. It's a blur to him, a surreal accumulation of moving pictures that seem more like a scene from a movie, than an actual real life event. Meri is closing in on him, knife still raised in her hand and then she suddenly crumbles to the ground, eyes rolling back into her head, a surprised expression flashing across her face and the hand around the knife loosening. She drops to the ground with a sickening thud, like a puppet whose strings have just been cut.

Rafa is still rooted to the spot, still staring, still utterly incapable of moving so much as a muscle. He cannot make sense of Meri there on the ground, motionless and unresponsive. To him it seems like she has had a heart attack or a stroke, collapsing so suddenly. Or maybe she has been struck by divine intervention... A noise of something heavy being placed on a hard surface finally gets his attention and makes him look up. It has been intervention after all. Just not of the divine variety. Right behind Meri's prone form on the floor stands Roger, the decorative wooden globe that has been on the sideboard in the bedroom just placed on the small table right by the entrance door. He is pale and his hands are trembling. It takes another moment, but finally Rafa's brain starts working again. And he can put two and two together.

“You hit her...”

“She was about to attack you! With a damn knife! Why does your fiance have a weapon on her person?! And what the hell was she talking about?!”

“You... you knocked her out...”

Rafa still cannot fathom Roger has actually hit his fiance – or whoever this woman is, because she has openly admitted to be somebody else from some other... reality no less. That however is not a thought he wants to dwell on right now. He cannot make sense of it. And he doesn't want to. What he does want and need to make sense of is the reason why Meri is unconscious on the floor. Roger has done this, has hit her, has risked her life... But the Swiss doesn't even seem to care about the fact that he has potentially seriously hurt Meri. She isn't even his concern. The only one he cares about is Rafa and he needs for the younger man to regain his composure.

“Rafa. Focus! Damn it...”

“Is she okay?”

Rafa does manage to focus, but his focus is entirely fixed on the unconscious woman on the ground. Roger can't really blame him. They have no clue how serious the injury is Roger has inflicted and if the Spanish woman has suffered any additional injuries in the tumble she has taken. They have to check of course but Rafa doesn't really seem able to do anything useful right now and all Roger feels towards the younger woman is indifference... mixed with quite a bit of disdain. Of course he hasn't meant to hurt her seriously, has only wanted to incapacitate her. But if she end up with a nasty concussion, he certainly will not feel guilty. She has been willing and way underway to attack Rafa, maybe seriously hurt him... Roger doesn't even want to think about how things would have ended, had he not been here.

Roger is still debating his next move, but he cannot leave Rafa without knowing what is wrong with his fiance... or the woman that has pretended to be her for the last couple of days. Before he ever even thinks about kneeling down, Roger uses his foot to extract the – rather large – knife from the younger woman's hand and kicks it out of her reach. Only then does he kneel down next to her and tries to remember the basic first aid training he has last polished up on when the boys had been born. There is little he fully remembers five years later but he hopes it will be enough.

The first thing he looks for are any signs of blood in the woman's hair right at the spot where he has hit her with the piece of decoration. But he can't find any. What he does find however is a very distinct lump at the back of Meri's head. He is gentle touching it, but the younger woman doesn't even flinch. For just a second there Roger is really truly worried. But next he feels for both her pulse and breathing and they are both even and strong. That is a good sign – no blood, no problems with her vital signs. Roger gives the Spaniard a soft, reassuring smile.

“Looks like she's okay. Probably unconscious...”

“We should call for help.”

“And what do we tell them? That I saved you from your fiance who has suddenly lost her mind?”

“I... I don't know... I can't... This doesn't make any sense...”

Rafa is still shaken but at least he manages full sentences again and is somewhat aware of the severity of the situation around him. However he simply seems to ignore the fact that the woman unconscious on the floor is lying there because she has tried to kill Rafa – or at least has seriously considered doing so – just a couple of minutes ago and Roger has been the one to save him. Rafa is fully focused on the concern he feels for Meri... and how to help her best. The whole issue with the damn knife in her hand – still prominently lying on the floor a couple of feet away from her – completely blocked from his rational thinking. Roger really hates to do it, but it seems he needs to remind Rafa of the facts.

“Do... do you think I can move her? I don't want to hurt her...”

“She has no injuries to the neck and her vital signs are stable. You won't hurt her. And even if you did... what does it matter?! We should probably tie her up instead or something.”

“Tie her up?! She's my future wife!”

Rafa is actually exasperated at the mention of even the most basic of precautions even after he has been openly threatened with a goddamn knife! He has not seen Meri's eyes or the expression in her eyes – of course he hasn't with her back turned to him – but he has heard her tone of voice and Roger is absolutely sure this woman has felt nothing for Rafa – no love or affection, not even a bit of sympathy. She would have gone through with her plan, she would have hurt Rafa... or worse, depending on how or even if the younger man would have defended himself. Somehow – given how shaken Rafa has been ever since – Roger doubts Rafa would have stopped her... The thought causes a cold, hard knot to form in Roger's stomach and there is a determination settling deep inside of him as well. He needs for Rafa to understand how close he has scraped past disaster.

“She tried to attack you! Hadn't I been here and had she actually followed through on her plans... She could have killed you!”

“She never would have hurt me.”

“Did you MISS the big, shiny, sharp knife she had on you?!”

It is the mention of the weapon that both causes Rafa to wince but also manages to coax him from his trance like state. His gaze wanders from Meri – who they really can't keep lying on the floor like this and who maybe, waking up dazed and with a headache and no more weapon in her hand, is not that much of a threat anymore – and the shiny knife lying on the carpet. A shudder seems to rock the younger man's whole frame and Rafa takes a deep breath, that obviously does little to calm him. His eyes are wide when he looks at Roger now, his voice breaking.

“Something is wrong here, Roger. Really, very wrong!”

“I told you that already... We need to speak to them. Both of them - her and Mirka... who I am very sure isn't really Mirka either. We need them to tell us what is going on here.”

“And we have to return little Elisavet to her family...”

The mention of Stefanos' sister – who has managed to completely slip Roger's mind in all this chaos and turmoil – brings Roger's thoughts about Rafa and Meri and whatever the hell is going on with her as well as with his own wife to a screeching halt. They have come here to help Stefanos, have come here to find his little sister and so far they have done none of that. As serious as the situation with Meri is and as difficult as all of this must be for Rafa, Stefanos' plight is more important right now. They need to reunite his family first and then they can deal with their own.

“Yeah, I heard her talk about that... Good heavens. You stay with Meri, I go get Mirka... And I will take care of the little girl.”

“Are you sure you want to do this alone?”

“I'll call Stefanos and ask him to meet me at our hotel room. This way it should be fine.”

The younger man nods and his gaze focuses back on his unconscious fiance on the ground in front of them. Roger sighs softly. He hates to leave Rafa alone like this, but the younger man seems a little more coherent and alert now and Meri truly poses no threat anymore. They need to do this – get Elisavet back to her family as well as finally find out what is going on with the respective partners in their lives. Rafa looks at him, a pleading but collected expression on his face.

“Okay... Hurry, please.”

*#*

When Roger returns – having used the key card Rafa has borrowed him – his hand is encircling Mirka's upper arm quite forcefully. His wife has a sour expression on her face, but she does come along. Rafa gets up from the edge of the couch he is sitting on and watches as the couple enters the room. Roger doesn't see Meri anywhere, but she is not on the ground anymore. Maybe she has woken up, but then Rafa would probably be less calm. Or maybe he has finally found the courage to gather her off the floor and move her to the bed... or maybe the couch on which he has been sitting to keep an eye on her. From this angle at the door Roger cannot tell. Rafa however doesn't even seem to be thinking about his fiance – or whoever this woman is. His focus is on what has happened at Roger's hotel room and how Stefanos' little sister is doing.

“Did you find the little girl?”

“She is fine. She was playing with Myla and Charlene and was pretty distraught when she realized she has lost track of time. Stefanos was still at the tournament site when I called, but he sent his father. I returned the little one to him.”

“Coward...”

Mirka is muttering under her breath, but she is speaking loud enough for Roger to hear her. Rafa is too far away and probably too preoccupied dealing with the news about Elisavet as well as with what has happened with Meri... and he is probably still concerned about her condition and possible injury as well, despite everything she has done. With all the emotion still swirling through him and with the heated argument he and Mirka have had when Roger had found little Elisavet in their hotel room, he can't help but squeeze the other woman's arm a little tighter when he asks her to repeat her interjection, a threatening tone to his voice, that actually tells her all too clearly to shut up. But this version of his wife is nothing if not defiant.

“What was that?”

“I said 'coward'. It was meant for the both of you. You for playing hero of the day for that obnoxious Greek's family and you for withdrawing from a match you would have won despite being hampered if only you had allowed for the kid's psyche to let him self-destruct out there on court. Everything was set up perfectly. And you ruined it.”

“We didn't ruin everything! We cleaned up the mess you and Meri made.”

Roger's viciousness seems to slide of off Mirka like it has no effect on her whatsoever. Actually she gives him a look like she has just detected some disgusting insect she feels the need to crush. She manages to make Roger feel uncomfortable immediately and when this is the true persona behind the woman that poses as his wife, she is an amazing actress. She has completely managed to fool him... and everyone else who knows her for that matter. Except for Stefanos maybe. But with him she has shown her true face as well and it seems she has given up on playing pretend any longer. She doesn't care about him or Rafa or keeping up the pretense. The one thing she cares right now is the only other person that is not a part of this world either – her Spanish friend.

“Her name is Francisca! And where is she anyway?”

“Here. Couch.”

It is the first time Rafa actually talks to Mirka ever since the couple has entered the room and when Rafa tells her about Francisca, the older woman shows a first display of real and true emotion. Mirka tugs at Roger's hand when she tries to move and for a second Roger wants to be vindictive and not let her see the other woman. But Mirka seems genuinely concerned and Roger can't help the empathy he feels towards this woman, even if he is very much sure she is not the one he knows. But she looks like her and she is concerned and he can't help it.

When they walk around the couch and Mirka catches sight of Meri she rapidly blinks a couple of times and then she gasps softly. It's a rather strong emotional reaction. Roger can even relate to her reaction. The two women obviously share a friendship, maybe even a special bond from everything the two men have witnessed. And unlike Roger and Rafa, Mirka hasn't seen the younger woman like this before. Meri is still unconscious after all and of course Mirka is concerned for her friend and confidante. But instead of asking what has happened to her or how she is doing, Mirka's voice grows cold and hard. She isn't interested in the truth, she is simply looking for someone to blame.

“What the hell did you do to her?! You hurt her, you uncaring bastards!”

“That is rich coming from a woman who just kidnapped a little girl.”

“What did you do?!”

“She tried to attack Rafa. I stopped her.”

Mirka completely ignores Roger's accusation when it comes to Stefanos' little sister and is still fully focused on Meri and who is the one responsible for her condition. Even the fact that the younger woman has tried to attack her own fiance and that it has needed Roger's intervention to keep her from hurting him does not elicit an emotional reaction from Mirka. His wife – this pretend version of her – doesn't care. Not about the heartache at the... crime she and Meri have committed, kidnapping a little girl, not about the fact that there was a rather high probability for Rafa to be injured by his own fiance, not the fact that they have been lying and betraying them for days on end now. All she cares for is the younger woman's current state.

“She needs medical attention!”

“She will be fine. I already had the hotel sent somebody to check on her. It's not serious. She should come around any minute now...”

Roger is actually surprised to hear that Rafa has not only relocated Meri to the couch, but has called the reception desk and has asked for the hotel doctor to come up to his room. He wonders which story Rafa has told the medical professional, who has come to check on the Spanish woman. Roger cannot imagine it has been the truth. If the hotel staff knew Roger had attacked the younger woman – even in defense of somebody else – surely the police would have been informed. Maybe that is the reason Rafa has relocated Meri to the couch. To claim some sort of fainting spell. Either way it is good to have a medical professional confirm Roger's earlier findings. Because despite anything, the last thing he wants is for Meri to have suffered any kind of serious damage. But they are in the clear there... and that means they can focus on the most important problem at hand – finding out the truth about these two women who pose as their partners... and the whereabouts of their actual wife and fiance.

“And when she does, we want answers.”

“Until Francisca wakes up and I am absolutely sure she is fine, I won't tell you anything.”


	16. Chapter 16

It's almost like the younger woman has heard Mirka talking about her, because as if on cue she starts to shift on the couch, eyelids fluttering and a soft groan escaping her lips. She is coming around. Mirka's gaze is entirely focused on every last move Francisca makes and despite the fact that the younger woman is waking from her unconsciousness, the Swiss still seems anxious. Francisca finally opens her eyes but has to blink against the daylight a couple of times – eyes watering – before she actually manages to keep them open. Mirka's face floats into focus right above her... and her muffled voice sounds in her ears, way too loud despite the fact that the older woman is trying to be gentle.

“How are you feeling?”

“Groggy... and my head hurts.”

Francisca gingerly reaches a hand up to her head, lightly placing the back of it against her forehead, as if to make sure everything is actually still in place. She isn't really sure about it. Because her head very much feels like somebody has stomped on it. Further inspection – moving her hand around and to the back of her head – provides a very tender and painful lump at the back of her head. Francisca winces. But it also helps her to remember what has happened before she has ended up prone on this couch.

“No surprise there. Roger hit you.”

“Who would have thought he had that within himself. But the stakes were high I guess. Didn't want his lover to get hurt.”

She remembers, remembers how Rafa had confronted her about the little girl in Mirka's room and their taunting of the young Greek player Rafa was supposed to face. She remembers his announcement to withdraw from the match, remembers her anger at the uselessness of her effort and she remembers slipping up and telling him who she really is and where she comes from. She remembers her deep, dark fury about all of his... gullible and insufferable innocence and compassion to finally cause her to snap. She remembers attacking him... and then everything fades to black.

It comes as no surprise to her that Roger has been the one to save Rafa like a damn damsel in distress and she cannot stop herself from blurting out the men's little secret. It doesn't matter now anyhow. And while at first both men watch her's and Mirka's exchange – Rafa with baited breath and in utter fascination of the affection and... intimacy happening between them, and Roger with suspicion and an ever readiness to interject should they decide to pull some sort of stunt on them - both pale at the mention of their affair now.

Francisca on the other hand is very much glad – glad for the fact not to have been seriously injured, glad for the truth to finally be out, and her and Mirka to be free to be and act as who they really are and glad that she has managed to deal both men a – albeit emotional – blow in return. A vicious smile appears on Francisca's lips only to morph into a grimace of pain as the action sends a sharp stab of anguish right through her head.

“Ouch... Fuck!”

“You... you know.”

Neither of the two men seems very much concerned by her exclamation of pain. They are too engrossed in the fact, that their partners – or whoever these women are – know about the intimate relationship between them. Francisca is gingerly sitting up on the couch, grimacing again. But Rafa and Roger only have eyes for one another at the moment, sharing a concerned look. These two... people, that they do not even know, are capable of a whole lot of malice. They have just demonstrated that fact with the kidnapping of Stefanos' baby sister... There is no telling what they will do with this secret, that could – potentially ruin both Rafa's and Roger's careers... along with their real family life. For right now all there is in response to the rather stupefied demand for confirmation is glee.

“Of course we know. We are not blind after all.”

“No... no you are not. And you are not nice or caring. You are not... you. Either of you? You are not the Mirka and Francisca we know, are we right?”

“We already TOLD you we are not..”

It is Mirka who answers the question Roger poses and she sounds more than just a little impatient and vexed. It is true after all. Mirka has told him right there and then when Roger had come to save little Elisavet, that: yes she had taken the little girl, yes she didn't regret it and yes this was something she usually would never even consider but as she is not the woman he knows, there is no real cause for concern there.

Francisca had told Rafa almost the same thing in this very room not too long ago, with Roger listening in on the conversation – admitting to the attempt to force Stefanos into compliance, admitting that she had been lying about herself ever since the blackout a couple of days ago... and that she felt a hatred and apathy towards the man that – in her world – is her husband, but who she has only played pretend with here, that it had almost resulted in disaster.

And here they are now. Rafa and Roger mystified, Francisca and Mirka glad about the truth being out but very much unhappy about the fact that things have gone sideways for them so fast. They are at an impasse. Roger and Rafa don't want the women here, the two of them don't want to be here and neither one of them have any clue how to reverse this... mystical and fantastic event that has somehow come to pass without either of them being able to explain it. And still – as they are the ones who have experienced it - Roger still hopes for either of these two strange women to have an answer at the ready, a sensible explanation... and a plan to return them to where they belong.

“How? How is that even possible. Tell us! You will tell us. You will tell us exactly what happened wherever you have come from the moment you came to us. You will tell us and we will find a way to get you back where you belong... and get our REAL partners back to us.”

“That is the ONLY thing we want. Neither Mirka nor me want to stay here with you two, playing pretend for even a second longer!”

“Where is my fiance? And where is Roger's wife?”

“We don't know. Not for sure. All we can tell you is that we are not supposed to be here. We are supposed to be on Mallorca, at a private hotel, about four weeks into the past. But we are not. We are here with you two idiots instead. Ad we can only assume your actual partners have taken our places when we have taken theirs. But there is no way to be sure.”

What Mirka has to tell them is not exactly promising. What it boils down to, is that neither of the two women really know much of anything about why or even how they have come to be here. And they have no information about the Meri and Mirka the two men know and love... and miss. It is disconcerting to realize they could have been fooled so easily... But it has happened. They have simply accepted the oddity in their – supposed – partners behaviors and have attributed it to emotion and stress and a simple bout of misunderstanding. Knowing the truth now, Rafa cannot even begin to understand how they ever could have been this blind.

What hurts even more is the knowledge that his real fiance – and Roger's wife for that matter – are trapped somewhere in a strange world, that is infinitely more dark and dangerous than the one they are used to. They have been witness to the cold-heartedness and cruelty that seems to form the daily life of these two strangers, that look so much like the women they know. Rafa does not even want to try to imagine the horrors the woman he loves is going through right now in this very moment... He pushes the thought aside forcefully. Fretting about Meri's fate will not help her or him. What will help is to get to the bottom of this mystery... and then make it stop.

“I still don't understand. You... spoke of another reality? How do you know?”

“Because this world is different from ours. Our lives, your lives... everything. It is all different!”

There is vehemence to Mirka's voice but she is being vague. She doesn't have to go into details though. Knowing the truth, knowing who these two really are – a lot of things fall into place all of a sudden, for both men. What they have simply attributed to tiredness or miscommunication becomes painfully obvious to be a lack of knowledge on the part of these two strangers, who have tried to fit into a world that is simply not their own.

“We don't have any children in your world...”

“No, and we never will. Not even one.”

“And we are already married?”

“Yes. A little over ten years now.”

Both men get the answers they have very much expected to the most pressing and obvious of differences between these two... worlds they are coming from. To Rafa it is all the information he needs. He really doesn't want to know all the details of this version of his fiance in the world she has come from. It only adds to the fear and heartbreak of what is happening to his Meri in their world. Roger however is not as affected it seems... or he is simply more curious. Because he keeps on asking questions, questions the answers are disconcerting to to say the least.

“What else? There is more is there not? Before you... came at Rafa with that knife, you said something about tennis being a business endeavor and there to be bargaining and blackmail and all other sorts of force...”

“Yes! And it is glorious. Neither one of you could ever understand. I mean around here... you ARE the lesser players WE keep in line to make the most of our profit margin.”

“This is awful..”

Roger's exclamation and the expression of sheer disgust on Rafa's face at the mention of crime and force, duress and maybe even physical repercussions to be used in order to make a profit out of something that should – in it's very core – be a fair game, causes the two women share a look. Obviously they find both amusement and offense in their combined reaction, seeing nothing wrong with the decision to hurt and exploit people being made so easily in the reality they come from. To them – it seems – that is the sporting part of their endeavor. Their reaction is very much the same.

“Cowards.”

Despite the insult – though it is a pretty tame one given all the other awful things that have happened today already – Roger presses on. Unlike Rafa who doesn't need all these details, who doesn't want to have a clearer picture and a deeper understanding of both this version of his fiance as much as himself in that other world, the Swiss seems to feel the need for full disclosure. It is Meri – Francisca, as she has repeatedly told him – who answers the Swiss' question now and she does not leave anything out...

“How... how did this happen? This... tennis empire you have built?”

“Easy. You both stopped playing the sport about three years ago, at age 30 and 35 respectively. Of course a lot of connections had been made before that already. With members of the media, tournament directors, sponsorship reps, ATP officials and some... lets say less upstanding parties, who still had an interest in the sport... and the money being made with it. It is a rather vast and very extensive network to this day to say the least. So when both of you retired, information was brought forward of several members on the ATP council having kept... let's say delicate secrets from the general public. There was an uproar of course and after the people in question had resigned from their posts, the positions were put to a vote. I don't need to tell you who got them, do I?

From there on out making changes as well as making sure things went our way was relatively easy. Other officials with important functions within the organization were either forced into compliance with in-depths knowledge about the darker spots in their pasts or were simply forced out and replaced by people we could trust. Nowadays most new players enter the professional sport, knowing fully well what they are getting into... And those that do not... well they learn quickly enough. And we reap the benefits of what they have to offer and give to the sport. That's the... short version of this story. You want any details?”

“No... God no.”

It seems this tale of abuse, calculation and a total lack of either morality nor empathy has finally stunned Roger into silence. Rafa however can practically hear his own thoughts rattling. They are not so much about what Francisca has just told them, about the... organization, the empire that has been built in her world. But he cannot stop thinking about this entirely different – and despicable – person he must be in that other life. And he cannot make sense of it... nor of the fact that a woman like Meri ever would have chosen such a man as her friend and companion, let alone her husband. His voice sounds hollow to his own ears when he speaks those thoughts out loud and he knows he is setting himself up for only more heartache and a painful reply from this woman he doesn't know. But he has to ask.

“So we are self-serving, cold-hearted, calculating and completely uncaring in the face of other people's suffering and misery?! Why did you ever agree to marry either of us?”

“Because we ADORE those qualities – along with your fierce protective streak, your strong will, your emotional stability, your determination... and a whole lot of other qualities. Of which you possess very little in this world.”

“Thank heavens for that.”

“Yeah, of course you would say that.”

There is a taunt and reproach in Francisca's voice when she replies, but that is exactly what Rafa has expected from her – at least from this version of her. To her all he and the qualities he holds dear and that he feels make him a good and moral person are only weaknesses to her. What he cherishes within himself, is the very thing she hates about him. They couldn't be any more different from one another and yet she has managed to fool him... Rafa is pulled from his thoughts when Roger's stern and somewhat impatient voice sounds right next to him. And he is right. Dwelling on the emotional compound of all this is not helping either of them. They need to stick to the facts... and come up with a solution.

“Enough of this. How did you get here? What happened? Was it the energy surge that caused the blackout?”

“We assume so. But we do not KNOW.”


	17. Chapter 17

The lack of knowledge is a general problem for all four of them, but this is not something they can solve all together. There is no trust between them, not even a speck of it and without trust there is no chance for consensus. At least that is how Roger sees it. They need to come up with useful ideas and a viable solution. But they need to do so without the two women around. Roger faces the Spaniard, keeping his voice low.

“Rafa, we need to talk.”

“Okay...”

The younger man isn't really listening or is preoccupied by something, but Roger can hardly blame him. The whole turn of events today is hard to comprehend, and on top of everything they have learned about the two women - who are not their partners -, to Rafa there is the additional strain of the withdrawal from the Grand Slam semifinal... But he needs Rafa now, needs the younger man sharp and receptive. And he needs a moment alone with him. His gaze wanders from the Spaniard to the two women settled on the couch together. His facial features close off and his voice grows colder when he addresses them.

“You two. Up and into the bedroom.”

“You can't ask her to get up! She has a concussion!”

Mirka reacts almost immediately, wishing nothing more but to protect the younger woman on the couch with the lump to the back of her head and a major headache still lingering. Roger cannot say he cares too much though. Yes, he has been the one to hit Francisca, and the action itself is one he hopes to never have to repeat ever again. But he has quite possibly saved Rafa's life in the process... To him sympathy for the injured woman is entirely unnecessary and even Rafa points out – though in a slightly less unforgiving and calmer tone than Roger himself – that Francisca's injury isn't all that serious.

“A mild one.”

“All she'll get is a headache. I'm sure she can deal with that. And she can lie down in the bedroom.”

“Why the hell do you want us to go to the other room anyway?!”

“Because we can lock the door. And we can talk in private.”

Roger's open display of honesty actually manages to stun Mirka into silence. Be it the fact that he tells her the truth or the fact that he plans to lock the two of them up while they are excluded from the plans to get them back where they belong, the Swiss cannot tell. He doesn't care either. What he does care about is that his demand is met. For just a moment there is defiance in the eyes of the woman he has foolishly believed to be his wife. But then she gives a curt, dissatisfied nod, gets up from the edge of the couch and holds out both hands for Francisca to grab in order to help her up and steady her.

It is painfully slow going and Roger is pretty sure the two women are doing it on purpose, but finally they reach the adjacent room and Roger locks the door behind them. He feels a little presumptuous acting like this is his room instead of Rafa's, but the younger man has shown no signs of protest. It is only when Roger turns back to face him, that he sees the determination on Rafa's face. Obviously the younger man is as eager to come up with a solution to their highly unusual problem as the Swiss. And he is the first one to ask the decisive question of how to act.

“What do we do? They... they have to go back. I need my fiance back. We both need our real partners back! Who knows what they are going through right now in this... horror version of our world.”

Rafa poses a very important and very emotionally distressing point, that Roger has pushed out of his thinking quite successfully until now. Knowing everything about these women, their partners and their lives that he does know now, it is easy to imagine that both Rafa's fiance and his wife are not only going through fear and uncertainty but maybe even anguish or hurt at the hands of the very people that love and cherish them in this world. The thought is truly unbearable... and it calls for urgent action. There really is only one thing Roger can think of.

“We could try to do it again.”

“Try what again?”

“Recreate the circumstances. Replay the moment in which they came here.”

“What – cause another blackout in the whole of Queens?!”

The exasperated tone to Rafa's voice should not come as as much of a surprise to Roger. Rationally thinking it is indeed an insane idea. They cannot plunge a whole section of the city into darkness – yet again – in the flimsy hope of reversing an event that is inexplicable in the first place. But they cannot just sit here and do nothing either. Both women have confirmed the power surge and subsequent blackout somehow coincide with their presence here. It is their best chance to reverse what has happened.

“I don't know what else to do... This is how they came here, at least that is what they tell us. It should be the way to send them back.”

“But how? We know nothing about generators or electricity.”

Roger actually has to grin at Rafa's statement, a reaction that probably makes him look like he has just lost his mind. But there is rhyme and reason to his reaction. Because a sudden strike of genius has him remember something that has managed to slip his mind until now in all this chaos. He and Rafa may not know the first thing about currents and electricity. But Roger knows someone who does – someone who is close and most definitely willing to help no less.

“We don't have to. I know one of the maintenance guys at the tournament. He's a big fan... I'm sure we can convince him to help.”

“Enough of a fan to risk his job and put a whole part of the city into darkness?!”

“I... I'm not sure. I need to ask him I guess.”

“And if he says no?! How will you explain this?”

“Temporary insanity?”

Roger means it as a joke, but Rafa seems to actually like that attempt at an explanation. Leave it to Rafa to worry about the people without electricity and the guy helping them more than the actual positive outcome for himself. But even with a plan and a contingency if the avid fan Roger has told him about is not as enthusiastic about helping Roger as the Swiss hopes, Rafa does not yet seem convinced. At least not entirely.

“You are sure of this? The... recreation? Risking this man's job, his chance at steady income? Risking that he might talk to somebody, especially if things go wrong or he disagrees with the idea?”

“No, I am not sure. But I can't think of anything else. All I know is, we need Mirka and Meri back. OUR Mirka and Meri.”

“Yes. We have to. We have no choice, no?”

“No, not really... Okay... Well I guess I will call that technician on maintenance and charm him into causing another major blackout...”

“You will need a lot of charm.”

Despite the bizarre and rather tense situation, Roger manages a grin. The one thing he is sure of, is that he can convince this man, who is really very devoted as a fan to him and who has actually managed to creep Roger out a little in the early years. But he has managed a way to deal with the man's obsession and these days whenever they come across one another here at the US Open, it is a little like returning to a long lost, though slightly strange friend once every year. He has no doubt whatsoever that he will get what he wants from this man. But charm definitely cannot hurt.

“Got it covered.”

Rafa takes the chance for a moment of quiet when Roger makes the phone call – using the hotel rooms phone instead of his own cellphone, which seems sensible given the fact that the technician he is about to call sounds very much obsessed with the Swiss. Rafa himself makes his way to the balcony for a breath of fresh air. He doesn't have much luck though. Even though the sun is slowly setting, the air is still hot and humid and very much feels like it is pressing down on him. But maybe that is just his imagination.

Would he lean forward on the concrete railing of the balcony just a little, he would be able to catch a glimpse of the adjacent bedroom where Mirka and Meri... or more so their strange counterparts are waiting, locked up and probably wondering what is going on in the main room. From his current angle all he can see is that lights are on in the room and shining through the floor lengths windows. He can't help but wonder what these two are talking about right now – assuming, plotting, scheming... A soft hand on his shoulders causes Rafa to flinch and spin around. It is Roger... He hasn't even heard the older man approach. Rafa pushes the thought of the two women's sinister plotting aside and gives Roger a questioning look.

“What did he say?”

“I'm not sure what to make of it, but... he was excited to help.”

“Is that good?”

“I'm not sure. I hope so. You will have to tell me later.”

Rafa frowns at Roger in response, his reply making no sense to the Spaniard. Roger is the one with the contact, the one to have made all the arrangements. This fan of his trusts the Swiss and he will certainly put no stock or trust into his closest rival. That technician probably hates Rafa with passion... And still Roger seems to think of splitting up and having Rafa go back to the tournament grounds and this strange man willing to help them all on his own. It's a bad plan and it is definitely not one Rafa is willing to agree to. But – as it turns out – there is no other choice yet again and Roger has a very sensible reason for his suggestion.

“Tell you later?”

“I have to stay here, Rafa. Mirka and I weren't at Arthur Ashe when this happened. We have to split up.”

Roger is right of course. If they want to replay the events from six days ago, Roger and Mirka need to be at their hotel room while he takes Meri back to Arthur Ashe. They need to be in the right place at the right time... at least that is the assumption. Of course they don't know for sure, but then again nothing is for certain in this mildly insane plan of theirs. Still – even with the necessity so clear at hand – Rafa hates the idea and that is putting it mildly.

“I don't like leaving you here. I don't want you to be alone with... this Mirka. She took Stefanos' sister, lied to him about where she was and even... made fun of him and the way he felt about her disappearance. And she enjoyed it... There is no love in that woman's heart.”

“I know and I don't like it either. But this is the solution... I think. It's not like I'm happy with you and this version of your fiance alone at Arthur Ashe either. Leaving you alone with this woman who tried to attack you not even an hour ago, it twists my stomach into knots.”

Of course they are both equally concerned both for their plan and for one another. They have seen first hand what these versions of their partners are capable of and setting them free, only to then split up and spend a chunk of time in the dark with them while hoping for the best outcome possible... it seems like a tremendously stupid idea. But they know who these women are now, they know to keep a close eye on them and – at least for Rafa – he deals with a slightly incapacitated version of his fiance. It's a little bit of hope and wishful thinking... but they should be alright.

“She has a concussion, Roger. And she wants to go home. She will not try it again. But I understand...”

“Good. Tell you what, I will try not to worry about you and you - please – try not to worry about me either. Because just like your version of your fiance, this version of my wife wants to go home to her world and her life and her husband as well. I think we will be safe.”

“I hope so.”


	18. Chapter 18

Mirka has taken care of her friend to the best of her ability and what little knowledge she has about the injury Francisca has suffered. She still has a hard time believing this world's Roger has actually done any of this, but it seems in a dire situation and with his friend's and lover's safety at stake, he has grown above his rather meek personality. She is almost proud of him... were it not for the fact that her own friend had gotten hurt in the process. She has organized a glass of water for Francisca but has refrained from offering her anything for the headache. Somehow the combination of a concussion and pain killers does not sound like the best of ideas to her.

The younger woman is doing a little better now, is more alert and some color has returned to her cheeks, that had been alarmingly pale when she had first woken from unconsciousness. They have mainly talked about Francisca and how she is feeling so far, but Mirka feels a strong urge to come up with some sort of plan of how to deal with the two men at the other side of the door, making plans about what to do with them, without including them in the decision making process.

The door to the bedroom opens, before either of the two really get a chance to talk things over and make proper plans. Mirka has to admit she is surprised at the determined and almost grim expression on both Roger's and Rafa's face. Neither of the two have ever looked as appealing to her than they do in this very moment and she is pretty sure it is the same for Francisca... While Roger stays by the door – to stop either one of them from trying to leave the room, Mirka assumes, Rafa steps up to the bed and holds out a hand for Francisca to grab. His tone of voice leaves no room for argument and still Mirka does exactly that.

“You will come with me.”

“Where are you taking her?”

Francisca looks back and forth between the outstretched hand offered to her and the stern look on the face of the man who is not her husband and Mirka with an equally as hard look on her face, demanding an answer to her question. It would be almost comical, were the situation not so dead serious and the tension in the room almost palpable. For a long moment there is a loaded silence that seems to suck all the energy out of the room. But finally Roger breaks that silence – revealing part of the plan the two men have come up with.

“Rafa and Francisca are going back to Arthur Ashe.”

“You want to try a do-over...”

The realization comes without thinking and it actually makes sense to Mirka. She and Francisca have never really taken the chance to come up with any plans of their own, having spent most of their time to not draw attention to themselves in order not to have either Rafa nor Roger question them. But this is a reasonable plan, maybe even a promising one. Though she has no idea how the men plan to reenact a damn power outage... But that is not her problem to solve – it is simply her opportunity to use. But Roger is obviously impatient to get this idea underway and that doesn't sit right with Mirka. She and Francisca are about to be separated... and that fills her with a sudden sense of dread.

“That's the plan. Now come along. We weren't here either when this happened.”

“Wait! At least gives us a chance to say goodbye!”

“Why? If everything goes right you will wake up in your world in the same room, four weeks in the past, together. If not... you are still both here.”

Despite Roger's explanations actually making sense, Mirka doesn't care for it. And she doesn't listen. She kneels down on the bed that Francisca is still sitting on, not having moved closer to her friend or her pretend partner as of yet, and gently, carefully, almost gingerly pulls the younger woman into a hug. A whole array of emotions works through her but she manages to keep her voice level and calm. Being scared or scaring Francisca with her behavior is not going to help either of them.

“I see you in a little while and everything will be back to normal.”

Francisca doesn't answer her, but she nods and a grateful expression shines in her eyes. Mirka never sees her get up from the bed, but she can hear from the rustling of fabric behind her that the younger woman is back on her feet again, probably relying on that stranger who looks so much like her husband to help her. She however is stuck with the paper tiger version of her own husband and this one ushers her out of the hotel room with no little amount of force, holding her by the upper arm yet again.

Their return to the hotel room happens in silence. The room is empty when they return, which is by design. Roger has asked their nanny to take the kids out for a little while and not return until at least nine thirty. It has been an odd request, he has been aware of it at the time, but now he is glad for the fact they have the room to themselves. They need it. It feels strange to be alone in the room with this version of his wife after closing the door to the room. She is looking at him intensely, scrutinizing him and the softest of smirks playing on her lips.

“So ... what now?”

“Now you sit down in that chair – exactly as you did six days ago – and shut up.”

Roger sounds no longer stern, but actually pretty harsh... and still there is a certain allure to the way he acts around her. In some aspects it reminds her of home so damn much it is almost physically painful. Maybe it is strange or even worrisome but she can't help the way she feels. Roger doesn't need to know that though. She could be open and appreciative, but instead she hides the sudden surge of familiarity behind sarcasm and a rather vicious tone of amusement.

“My, you are decisive and determined all of a sudden. Who would have known you had that within yourself. Maybe I could grow to like you after all.”

“I don't want you to like me. I want you to go back where you belong! I want my wife back.”

“Yes and go back to your boring little family life. How fitting.”

“Yes. That is what I want. I can have my family and you can have your horror story back.”

Mirka frowns at him, actually feeling hurt at the implication that the life she so desperately wishes to get back to, is terrible and undesirable in even the slightest of ways. She loves her life with every last fiber of her being. And this man opposite of her – all high morals and righteousness – has NO right to even judge. Because he has no fucking clue what he is talking about. Mirka crosses her arms in front of her chest, glaring at Roger, her voice trembling with fury when she retaliates.

“My life is NOT a horror story!”

“No, maybe not. But how about everyone else around you?”

“I don't care about anyone else.”

“Which is precisely the problem! You know what? This is pointless. You will never understand... Just sit there and be quiet.”

Their discussion ends like this – with Roger having the last word – and Mirka is actually glad about it. If she doesn't have to talk to this man even once more in her life... it will still not be enough. She does as she is told, sits, waits and keeps quiet. Minutes are ticking by, bleed away, turn into an hour. There is a large clock on the opposite wall, that shows 21.15. It is less than ten minutes now to the exact time when she and Francisca had been dropped into this joke of a world six days ago. Hopefully those will be the last minutes she spends here.

The clock reaches the right time and both she and Roger, who has been keeping a constant eye on her but has never said another word to her, stare at it so intensely one might almost think they would be able to actually stop it from working. But it ticks on... and then the lights go off and the room is plunged into darkness. Roger can hear the other Mirka's disembodied voice float through the room just a second later, actually causing him to flinch as he has not expect her to speak to him again. But obviously she cannot stop herself from one last jib and insult into his direction.

“Goodbye my little, toothless teddy bear. May we NEVER meet again.”

*#*

It has been a lot easier than Rafa has expected. Getting onto the tournament grounds is not a problem, even though play is already over for the day. But there are still people around and both his and Francisca's accreditation allow them access to the premises. Getting into the catacombs of Arthur Ashe should have provided more of a problem, but Roger's fan - the technician to help them with their reenactment problem - is waiting for them at a side entrance and – mercifully – doesn't ask any questions. It seems Roger has fully instructed him.

The technician leaves as soon as he has let them in, telling Rafa he knows what to do and actually wishing them good luck with their endeavor. Rafa is sure the man does NOT know all the details. Otherwise he would either laugh or run away, mystified. Francisca has been surprisingly quiet and compliant all the way here, but Rafa assumes that is mainly because she is still dealing with the aftereffects of her concussion.

It is good though, not having to deal with any of her disdain or insulting words thrown at him, trying to taunt him or throw him off what little confidence he has in this ludicrous plan he and Roger have come up with. It works out well enough until they reach the little conference room adjacent to the locker room, where Rafa has told his fiance – his real fiance – to wait a couple of days before, while he had gone to get a driver for them. It seems like an eternity ago already, but it has only been six days.

As soon as Francisca is settled on one of the free chairs and she has gathered her strength a little – the nausea and headache she is most definitely dealing with subsiding just a little – she also manages to find her voice again. She is in no way helpful or soothing for Rafa's nerves that are wound so tight it is almost physically painful. All he wants is to get this over with and – in the very best of cases – get rid of this woman and finally get Meri back. But Francisca seems to feel the need to make the most of what little time is left to her in this reality. She taunts and teases him.

“We have a little time left.”

There is so much innuendo dripping from her words, Rafa is sure that were he to look at her now, his damn cheeks would turn just a shade pinker. But he does not look at her, in fact ignores her and her – barely veiled – attempt to be seductive completely. It does not have the desired effect. Francisca does not give up so easily – at least not this time. She has fled rather easily the last time she hadn't gotten his way with him. But right now she cannot go anywhere. So instead of retreating, she comes at him full force.

“You could come and apologize. For getting me injured.”

“I didn't get you injured, Roger did. And he did it only to protect me. From you. Because YOU threatened me with a damn knife!”

“Tough love, babe.”

“Shut up.”

It's the first time Rafa is actually unable to keep both his frustration and his impatience in check, snaps at her and tells her off in a very stern voice. He feels sorry for his harsh tone of voice almost immediately afterwards and this time he actually makes the mistake of turning to face the woman that looks so much like his fiance. But she is not. Her reaction shows it all too clearly. Francisca is smiling at him, still seductive and very much appreciative. She has liked it, has liked the harsh tone he has used with her, has liked being told what to do like this. He has only managed to encourage her.

“You really don't want to say goodbye to me?”

“No. I want my fiance back.”

The expression on her face changes at the mention of Meri, her facial features darkening and anger and just a hint of disappointment flashing across her face. She is not happy with his continued rejection and of course she doesn't even try to hide her anger, her facial features contorted in disgust, arms crossed in front of her chest and eyes cold and hard and dark. Instead of being seductive, she is intentionally hurtful now. Rafa can't help it. He simply wants to understand and the minutes to achieve that are ticking by. He needs to know what has made this version of Meri so much different from the woman he knows and loves.

“Good riddance then, I guess.”

“How did you ever get like this...”

“I am exactly how I'm supposed to be. How did you ever turn out to be so damn... tender?”

“Unlike you, I consider myself a good person.”

Francisca snorts and gives a very harsh laugh in response to Rafa's statement. It hurts, even though it shouldn't. This woman's opinion should mean nothing to him. Actually it can and should – but only ever to the contrary. If she feels something is wrong or bad, there is a good indicator it is a good thing instead. Like their discussion about what makes a good person... Right now she is taunting him, insulting him really and trying to use all his good qualities against him. But she doesn't quite succeed, because he can see nothing wrong with the way he is, and that finally seems to sate her wish to deal him one last blow before she leaves this reality – hopefully for good.

“Yeah – nice, friendly, patient, humble, boring, timid. Of course you do think you're good.”

“How is any of that bad?”

“Forget about it. Just send me home.”

She does not say another word, simply sits there on one of the chairs in the conference room, glaring at him, arms still crossed and her gaze never wavering. Rafa goes back to ignoring her, but he never quite loses that feeling of being scrutinized, of her eyes boring into his back. The minutes are ticking by in awful slowness and it seems the more often Rafa takes a look at the watch on his wrist, the slower the time goes by. But the seconds are ticking by and then it is 21:21. The exact time of the blackout six days ago. This should be it. He glances at Francisca once more, a word of goodbye actually on the tip of his tongue now for reasons he can hardly even comprehend himself. And then everything is plunged into darkness.


	19. Chapter 19

Nothing happens. There is no shower of blazing light, no crescendo of noise, no feeling of electricity crackling that makes the hairs on his arm and neck stand on edge. But that doesn't mean it is a bad thing or any kind of setback yet. Six days ago nothing of the sort had happened either. At least not to Rafa's knowledge. The last time the blackout has lasted for almost ten minutes and somehow that fact has managed to slip Rafa's mind until now. A cold hard knot forms in his stomach.

He needs to stay here, in this room, with Francisca... or not. After all he cannot be sure if she is still there. He cannot see anything and that will stay like this for a while longer. Ten minutes of complete darkness in which he can't do anything but hope and wait... It is eerie to say the least, but Rafa doesn't dare to call out to Francisca or Meri or whoever is sitting down just a few feet away from him right now. If she is even still there. Or maybe she doesn't disappear. It is... some sort of swap... or whatever.

Rafa has no idea of the specifics – none of them do. How could they? This is all just fantasy to them, science fiction, something they can neither make sense of nor explain or even comprehend. What little they have believed to understand, they have used to come up with a plan. Maybe it is idiotic, maybe it will all turn out to be in vain, but it is the only thing they have been able to come up with.

The urge to break the silence, to talk, to get an answer and make sure he is not all alone in this all encompassing and oppressive darkness, is overwhelming. He could talk to Francisca again. But he forces himself to stay silent. All the woman will do is taunt him again. Or maybe she won't answer at all – is no longer there and his real fiance has not taken her place. That would be even worse... So Rafa opts for silence. He decides however to check his watch and see how many minutes have passed by. Fumbling with the buttons to turn on the light of the display, he can hear an ever so soft crackling sound. And then the lights come back on.

For a moment time simply seems to stop and Rafa isn't even aware of the fact that he has yet to take a breath until his lungs start to protest. He takes a deep breath and motion returns to him. He blinks against the light that has returned so suddenly and with the breath and the becoming accustomed to the light again, sound returns to him as well. He can hear the breathing – slightly too quick and slightly too shallow – of the person behind him. Meri! He turns around.

It is her sitting in the same spot as before and for a second Rafa feels utter disappointment. But then he takes a closer look. She looks different than before. They are only nuances, but there is a definitive change. The color of her hair, the curls he has missed back, her complexion a lot more pale than just seconds ago and when she looks up – eyes wide and watery – Rafa knows for sure. He would know if he were blind. It's a sudden feeling of familiarity – of fondness and affection and love. This is his Meri. This is the woman he loves. His voice cracks, betraying every last one of his swirling emotions.

“You're back...”

“Rafa... Is... is that really you?”

She has looked up, blinking against the harsh artificial light and her eyes are wide, pupils blown. Goosebumps have formed on her arms and she is pale and still breathing way too quickly and shakily. She is shaken and her emotions are clearly shining through. It is the last piece of evidence Rafa needs. Francisca is gone... and his fiance has returned to him. He bridges the gap between them with two large strides, gently places his hands on her upper arms that feel cool and a little clammy to the touch and gently pulls her up.

She seems a little shaky, but she follows his movements and Rafa helps to steady her. He lets his arms slide around her, placing one of them right below her neck and one at the small of her back, pulling her closer. She feels... right. Her scent, her soft skin, the very way her hair tickles his cheeks and the way her body curves under his hands. This is truly the woman he loves, the woman he has missed so dearly and has hoped and prayed to get back.

It takes a moment, but finally she reacts, raising her own arms, placing them around his midsection and pulling them tight around him, holding onto him like her life depends on it. Rafa isn't quite sure, but from the soft shaking emanating from her body, he is almost sure Meri is crying. Given what she has gone through, it comes to no surprise to Rafa. He pulls her in a little closer, rubbing soothing circles on her back, holding on tighter to her neck and mumbling soft words to her.

“Meri... Yes! Yes, it's me. Everything is okay now. You are fine. You are back where you belong.”

“Oh dear god...”

Her voice is breaking as she exclaims the words and even though she is clearly in distress it is so, so good to hear her voice. They stay in each other's arms like this, Meri clinging to him Rafa trying his best to calm her down. He has no idea how much time has passed, but he really doesn't care. Even though he hasn't been aware of it the entire time, they have been separated for almost a week now and there has been a real chance they would never see each other again. Quite frankly he could stay with her like this forever and cherish the simple fact that they have one another back.

But the closeness along with his soothing gestures and words finally seem to come to fruition and after what feels like way too soon Meri pushes back and Rafa lets go of her, allowing her to take a step back. They are still only inches apart from one another and it is only now that Rafa realizes the color that has returned to Meri's face is not all about the fact that she feels a little better now. There is a small but very prominent bruise on her left cheek and Rafa's hands tighten into fists. He tries to fight his fury at the fact that his fiance is hurt down and tries to be emphatic and gentle instead when he asks her about the injury.

“What happened to your face?”

“Roger... I mean that reality's Roger. He hit me. Me and Mirka... we tried to adjust, tried to keep a low profile and find a way back home, but him and... well... you or that version of you? They were suspicious right away. And when they realized something was wrong and that we weren't who we were supposed to be... they got very angry with us. They wanted us to tell them what we have done with their wives, where they were, why we were trying to infiltrate them... But we didn't have any answers and they didn't like that...“

Meri's voice fades away and her hand involuntarily moves to the bruise on her face, touching it ever so slightly like that can make it go away. Rafa has a hard time confining the rage and hatred that is bubbling up inside of him. Francisca has told him only a little of her world and of Rafa's version of himself in that reality. But he knows enough to be aware of the fact, that his fiance has gone through an extremely traumatizing situation... and she has gotten hurt in the process. In that moment, he is filled with glee at the knowledge that the Rafa of that world will get back a bruised wife just the same. It seems only fair. Of course he tells none of that to Meri. With her he is simply glad and grateful she is back with him. He forces himself to smile – a calm and soothing smile.

“I'm so sorry... But you are home now. You are safe. Nobody will hurt you here, I promise.”

“That world? Their reality? It was a nightmare...”

Her words sum up her experience and all its horrors and Rafa's heart goes out to her. He almost jumps out of his skin, when – in the middle of this rather intense moment – his phone in his pocket starts to ring. Fishing the device from his pant pocket and looking at the display, a surge of guilt runs right through him. With his focus entirely on Meri, he has completely forgotten there is another couple out there, sharing the same plight... He gives his fiance an apologetic smile and points to the phone.

“Sorry. It's Roger. I'll just be a moment.”

“Mirka! You have to ask him about Mirka. She was there, she helped me...”

Rafa has already picked up the phone and nods in agreement to Meri's demand. Roger doesn't even so much as greet him, but then again he doesn't have to. There is no need for pretense. They are both fully aware of what that phone call is all about. On the other end of the line Roger sounds excited more than anxious and Rafa takes that as a good sign when it comes to Mirka's return. He is right as it turns out.

“Did it work?!”

“Yes, yes it worked. For you too?”

“Yes! Mirka is here! She is back. She is fine. A little shaken, but otherwise she is all okay. She asked about Meri. She is fine as well?”

“Yes. The same as for you two. Shaken, but otherwise okay.”

Rafa gives Meri a thumbs up while still in the middle of the conversation with Roger. His fiance has been hanging on every word that has been exchanged and Rafa hopes the gesture makes it clear to her, that Mirka is not only back in this world, but is as fine as can be expected after everything the two women have gone through. Seeing the small, relieved smile spread on her face, Rafa almost misses it when Roger starts talking to him again.

“Can you... Will you come? The two of you?”

“Of course.”

It is a 20 minute drive and walk through the empty lobby of the hotel, before he and Meri reach the elevators that take them up to the penthouse where Roger and Mirka are residing. Rafa has tried not to push Meri, though he has about a million questions on his mind, most of them concerning her health and general state of mind. But he loves and trusts her and he knows she will talk to him if she wants and needs to. For now he is simply grateful she is back with him and he has a chance to look at her, be close to her and hold her hand again. Which is what they have been doing – on the way out of the catacombs of Arthur Ashe, in the car and in the hotel and they are still doing that, when Roger opens the suite's door on him.

It is only now – when she catches sight of a slightly pale but otherwise composed Mirka, that Meri lets go of Rafa's hand and practically rushes past Roger. Rafa steps through the door as well and stays next to Roger, who has closed the door behind them, while Meri has bridged the gap and has come to a halt in front of Mirka. There is a tiny moment where nothing happens and time seems to stand still, but then the two women share a long, desperate hug, both of them with tears in their eyes and mumbling words of gratefulness and encouragement to one another. They truly have gone through a tremendous ordeal together and it seems they are both very much happy to have made it out. Next to him Roger whispers to Rafa with a slightly amused tone to his voice. But he is not subtle enough.

“Look at that... Now they are actually friends.”

“We have gone through hell together. It's easy to bond like that...”

The two women have ended their heartfelt embrace and it is Mirka who reacts to Roger's statement, causing a soft redness of embarrassment to creep on Roger's cheeks. It is almost comical and endearing at the same time to see him like this. Everything feels better now – right and in place and exactly how it should be. Rafa feels... comfortable and he is pretty sure he is not the only one feeling like that. But it's a fleeting feeling. It lasts exactly until the moment the two women exchange a silent conversation and come to some sort of agreement with only gestures and looks. What they have to say, sends Rafa's heart into a frenzy and next to him all color has drained from Roger's face.

“We know.”

“Know what?”

It's a flimsy attempt at deflection at best and the fact that Roger's voice is both breaking and wavering only makes it worse. They both know exactly what Mirka – who has started the whole miserable topic – is talking about. This is about Roger and Rafa and what they have been keeping from the two for so long. It is simply not fair. Their lie, their secret has come to light and now that they have the women they love back in their lives, they are about to lose them again. And it is their own fault. Had they been open and honest, maybe there would have been a chance. But not like this – not with betrayal and wrongdoing standing in between them. They have brought their partners back. And now they are going to lose them...

“About you two.”

“And it's okay. We love you. We want you to be happy.”

Meri has taken over the talking now and Rafa is absolutely sure he must have misheard. What he has heard, is that she has told him that his relationship with Roger – though no longer a secret to Meri and Mirka – is okay for the two women. There are no tears, no accusations, no harsh words, insults or displays of feeling hurt and betrayed. There is only acceptance... Meri is even smiling at him. Then it is Mirka who speaks again, only confirming what Meri has just said and slowly, gradually it dawns on Rafa that maybe, just maybe he has heard nothing wrong after all...

“And if this makes you happy... we can accept it.”

Both women have stepped up to them now, Mirka only inches away from Roger, and Meri doing the same thing with Rafa. It is a tense but beautiful moment and all anxiousness drains away when both women simultaneously engage in a hug with their respective partners. It is not a joke, not imaginary, not just wishful thinking. The two mean what they say, are genuine in their display of consent for this definitely unique and somewhat difficult relationship they all share among one another. But this is really happening. Roger and Mirka are married, Rafa and Meri are engaged, Mirka and Meri are friends now... and Rafa and Roger get to keep their own intimate relationship with their partner's knowledge and with no bad blood between them.

Somehow – something good has come out of all of this.

 

\- FIN -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though nobody asked for it, I still decided to reformat this and put the chapters individually.  
> Just felt more wholesome to me this way and hopefully makes the reading a little easier.  
> After all changing it to 'whole work' is always possible.


End file.
